


Sweet Nothings

by EllieTheGreat



Category: The Avengers
Genre: Bakery!AU, F/M, M/M, Tony buys a bakery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:42:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 55,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieTheGreat/pseuds/EllieTheGreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bakery!AU where Tony buys a bakery and everyone pitches in to help, including their two new interns, Darcy and Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Jay (credulousdame) for editing. You are a sweetheart, darling.

# Chapter One (Three Years Ago)

Some people buy their friends bracelets. Or clothes. Or…something material. That’s what normal people did. So, of course, Tony Stark would have to reinvent that with his usual grandstanding and opulence. Sure, he could’ve gone the traditional route, gotten them sports cars custom designed to represent them. He thought about that, actually, but Pepper had shut that down pretty damn fast. No, Tony wanted to get them something memorable, something over the top, something that screamed his name.

            He bought them a bakery.

            “Well, what do you think?” Tony spread his arms and spun around the empty room.

            Six shocked faces stared back at him.

            Tony dropped his arms. “You don’t like it?”

            “It’s not that, Tony. We just… didn’t expect this,” Steve explained slowly.

            Tony grinned. “That’s what I was going for. The shock value.”

            His phone rang suddenly and he excused himself, stepping out onto the sidewalk to take the call. As soon as the door closed behind him, Steve whirled to face the rest of the group.

            “What the fuck are we supposed to do with a bakery?” Clint asked. “Can any of us even bake?”

            Bruce shook his head. “I don’t think that was the point. It was a gesture. One that Tony is very proud of.”

            “What shall we do with this pastry shop?” Thor asked, walking around the room in long strides.

            His brother, Loki, examined his fingernails disinterestedly. “Burn it to the ground and dance around the fire like heathens.”

            Everyone stared at Loki for a long moment.

            “Uh…I think we’ll make that our back up plan,” Steve suggested. “We can’t just shoot Tony down. He was trying to be generous.”

            Natasha crossed her arms. “I think it’s kind of cool. I always wanted to work in a bakery.”

            The silence that followed this was even longer than the one before.

            “Really?” Steve asked.

            Natasha nodded. “When I lived in Russia. There was one a few miles from my house. The women who owned it were almost as sweet as their pastries. I bought bread from them once a week.”

            The door swung open and Tony waltzed in, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

            “So? What’s the verdict?” he rubbed his hands together excitedly.

            Steve hesitated. “It’s…very nice, Tony. But none of us know anything about running a bakery.”

            Tony waved this away. “It’s not rocket science, guys. Besides, I already thought about all of that. I worked up a list of what everyone can do. And the construction crew comes in first thing tomorrow to remodel everything. Are you in, or not?”

            They all exchanged looks. Slowly, one by one, they all nodded- save for Loki, who ignored the rest of them completely.

            Tony looked positively thrilled. “Great! Okay, so let’s get down to business. Steve and Bruce, you will be our bakers-“

            “Why me?” Bruce asked.

            “Bruce, you make homemade cinnamon rolls every Saturday,” Tony pointed out.

            Bruce shrugged.

            “Continuing with the jobs,” Tony went on. “Thor, you’re going to run deliveries and help with running the counter. Natasha, you’re in charge of the front of the bakery. You run the counter, deal with the customers, take orders, all that fun stuff.”

            Natasha seemed to accept this. “Wait- don’t tell me you’re going to be decorating cakes and baking cookies.”

            “Of course not!” Tony scoffed. “I’m the business manager.”

            Clint spoke up from beside Natasha. “Please don’t tell me I’m the janitor or something. I fucking hate mops.”

            Natasha shot him a look. “Mops?”

            “They look like stick people with really bad wigs that had their souls sucked out, okay?” Clint said defensively.

            “No, Barton, you will be our master decorator,” Tony interrupted.

            Clint cocked his head to the side. “I think you have to be trained to be considered a master.”

            “Okay, then I’ll find a class for you to take,” Tony replied easily.

            Natasha looked around the bare room, imagining how it would like when the remodeling was done. Steve and Bruce wandered into the kitchen to look at the appliances that were already hooked up. Clint scrambled up the metal ladder that led to the balcony over the shop entrance. Thor and Loki were watching the owners of the Italian market next door fight through the front window. Tony had disappeared into the back office. They all congregated back in the front room after a while, looking around at each other.

            Clint looked around the room.  “What are we going to call it?”

 

# Present Day

            “Shield Bakery, how can I help you?” Natasha said into the cordless phone, leaving the line of customers for half a second to retrieve the appointment book.

            “Natasha,” Loki’s voice came from the other end. “Thor wishes to know the location of the delivery. He seems to have lost the order sheet.”

            Natasha flipped through the pages. “Hold on, I’ve got a line.”

            She dropped the phone on the counter and carefully scooped a dozen chocolate cookies into a box. She sealed it and slid it across the counter, accepting the money the customer handed over and smiling when he dropped a ten in the tip jar. She boxed up three cakes and another dozen cookies to meet the demands of the customer in record time. As the last customer thanked her, she scooped up the phone and turned back to the appointment book.

            “Loki?” she asked.

            Loki sighed impatiently.

            Natasha rolled her eyes. “It’s on 5th Street. Two blocks past that bar we went to last week. It’s the building with that terrible orange sign.”

            “Thank you,” he replied quickly, disconnecting.

            Natasha returned the book to the shelf and checked the display case. She closed the register and pushed through the door into the kitchen.

            “Hey, Steve, how are those chocolate chip cookies coming? We’re running low out front and we’ve got an order for two dozen tonight,” she called.

            Steve wiped his hands on his apron and smiled at her. “They’re cooling right now. We’ve got six dozen. How’s it going out front?”

            Natasha leaned over to inspect the cookies. “Pretty good. I just sold three cakes and two dozen cookies in the past ten minutes. One of the customers dropped a ten in the tip jar, too.”

            “I knew it was a good idea to put the sexy one out front,” Tony announced, snagging a cookie from the cooling racks.

            Natasha grabbed a spatula and whacked Tony on the head. “Watch it, Stark.”

            Tony winked at her and bit into the cookie.

            “Tony, stop stealing cookies,” Bruce admonished, passing with an arm load of cake pans.

            “I’m not stealing, I’m doing a quality control check,” Tony said around a mouthful of chocolate. “Keep up the good work, boys.”

            Steve shook his head, smiling, and went back to the vat of icing he was working on. Natasha moved a few dozen of the cookies onto display trays and carried them back out to the front. She opened the back of the display case and slid the trays in next to the oatmeal cookies. Natasha stood back and examined the case.

            “Hey, Clint,” she called over her shoulder.

            The curtain around the balcony slid back and Clint leaned on the wrought iron bar that encircled the working space. “What’s up, Tash?”

            “I need another cake for the display case. We have enough cupcakes to get us through the lunch rush, but we’ll need at least a dozen more for the after dinner crowd. Send them down on the dumbwaiter when you’re ready, okay?” Natasha wiped down the counter, ridding it of a few stray crumbs.

            “Got it, Tash,” Clint slid the curtain closed, and Natasha could hear him whistling.

            The phone rang again and Natasha grabbed it. “Shield Bakery, how may I help you?”

            “Ms. Romanov? It’s your landlord.”

            Natasha leaned against the counter. “Mr. Fury. How are you?”

            “Fine, fine. I had a question for you all. As you know, I’ve been teaching a criminal sciences class at the university for the past few months. I have two students looking for work experience. I thought that maybe you bunch could help me out with that,” Fury grumbled.

            Natasha shifted the phone. “Are they culinary students?”

            Fury scoffed. “Not exactly. One of them is on probation. She needs work experience hours to show the dean that she can be responsible. The other is an over achieving little shit who wants to gain some experience in running a small business. The girl claims she can bake, but I wouldn’t put too much stock in her claims.”

            “We could use the help,” Natasha admitted. “We’ll give it a shot, at least. I want to get a little history on them, though. What are their names?”

            On the other end, she could hear Fury shuffling papers. “Darcy Lewis and Peter Parker.”

            “I’ll run them through my database. Tell them to be here tomorrow at noon for their orientation. They have a two-week probationary period. If they don’t make it through that, they don’t earn any credit. After that they’ll gain credit so long as they keep up their work. I’m not going to put up with a couple of lazy kids. If they’re slackers, I don’t want them,” Natasha insisted.

            Fury snorted. “Trust me, Ms. Romanov, neither of them are slackers. Lewis needs a swift kick in the ass, in my opinion, but she takes her responsibilities seriously. And Parker…well, you’ll see tomorrow. I want reports on their experiences and behavior at the end of the trial period. I’ll pass them on to the proper people and make sure they earn the credit they deserve. If you have any problems, just let me know.”

            Natasha hung up and slapped the panic button hidden under the register. Steve, Bruce, and Tony burst in from the kitchen in a flurry of powdered sugar and flour. Clint all but slid down the ladder. They all converged on the counter, ready to beat the hell out of the idiot trying to rob them. All at once, they seemed to realize the bakery was free of muggers, and relaxed.

            “You know,” Tony sighed, drooping against the counter, “It’s not like you can’t be loud when you want to be. Why can’t you ever just yell for us? Always with the damn panic button.”

            Natasha shrugged. “If I asked nicely, you wouldn’t respond as quickly. This is important.”

            The front door was thrust open and Thor trooped in, Loki skulking behind him. They joined the rest of the staff at the counter, recognizing that someone had news.

            “Tomorrow,” Natasha continued, “We’ve got two college kids coming in. They need work experience, and Fury asked if we could help him out. There’s one kid who is hoping to learn something about running a small business. Tony, he’s yours. Try to actually teach him something.”

            Tony stood up straight. “Are you implying that I do nothing? I will have you know that I could be home in my lab right now, coming up with the next big invention, but I choose to be here, with my friends and Loki.”

            Loki shot Tony a scathing look, which he ignored completely.

            “There’s also a girl,” Natasha pushed on. “She needs the experience because she’s on behavioral probation at the university-“

            Clint’s hand shot in the air. “I call her! She’s mine.”

            “No,” Natasha shot him down.

            “ _Fuck_ no,” Tony elaborated.

            Loki rolled his eyes. “Not even I am willing to subject the bake house to _that_.”

            “Come on! We need another decorator! We’ve already got two bakers we don’t need a third. Pleeeaassseeee?” Clint begged.

            Everyone stared at him. His shoulders sagged in defeat.

            “Bastards,” he muttered.

            Natasha shook her head. “Peter and Darcy will be here at noon. I want everyone here to meet them- you, too, Loki. They’ll need to get used to running into you.”

            “I will not speak to them. If they touch me, I will put them in the new oven and toss hot baking tins at them,” he seethed.

            Clint shot him a sideways look and stepped a little closer to Natasha. “Okay, well I’m going to go put a lock on the oven, if you don’t need me for anything else.”

            Steve hurried behind him. “Don’t you dare, Barton, I’ve got a dozen cream puffs in that oven!”

            Bruce watched them go, then looked over at Natasha. “Nat, are you sure this is a good idea? Bringing in two kids who have no experience to help us out? We’re going to be responsible for their mistakes.”

            “I know,” Natasha nodded, pulling a serving knife out of the display case. “That’s why you train them before you dole out jobs.”

            She ran the knife over the stone sharpener, sending out sparks. Tony flinched and backed towards the kitchen. Loki had a glint in his eye and a small smirk on his face.

            “These children, they are slaves to our wishes, yes?” he asked.

            Natasha shrugged. “More or less. And can everyone stop talking about them like I agreed to hire a pair of preteens? They’re college kids. How bad could they be?”

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standing just inside the door was a girl with long brown hair, gorgeous eyes behind a pair of glasses, and a beat up messenger bag littered with pins. This was Darcy. Next to her stood Peter, all gangly limbs and messy brown hair that was surely his trademark. There was one other thing that really stuck out about him. He looked about ten years old.

# Chapter 2

            Early the next morning, Natasha slipped through the back door of the bakery, locking it behind her. She climbed the ladder up to Clint’s workshop and opened the glass doors that led to the outer part of the balcony. Dodging the precariously balanced stacks of sugar flowers, gumpaste, food coloring, luster dust, and decorating tips, she dragged a small metal stool onto the balcony and perched on it to watch the sunrise. It wasn’t something she got to do very often. Most mornings at this time she was getting ready for her run, or heading to the gym. In the middle of the night, she woke suddenly and tossed and turned for hours, unable to fall back asleep. Finally, she gave up and started her morning routine a little earlier than usual. Half an hour later, she found herself at the bakery and she knew just what she needed. As the first lavender streaks poked at the horizon, she heard the back door open again. She reached back and shut the balcony door quietly, hoping to be left alone a little longer. The lavender faded slowly to pink, then to a firey orange. Natasha watched it all in silence, with the cornucopia of sounds that signaled morning in the city. When the sky had lit up completely, Natasha slid off the stool and peeked over the rail at the street.

            The balcony doors opened. “Morning, Tash.”

            She looked over her shoulder at Clint. “Morning. How long have you been here?”

            “About an hour,” he admitted. “You didn’t look like you wanted to be disturbed.”

            She gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Clint.”

            He beamed. “Hey, I’m just that good. So, are you ready for today?”

            “I suppose I have to be,” she sighed. “At the very least, it should be interesting.”

 

 

            At noon on the dot, the door to the bakery swung open. Within a few seconds, everyone was gathered around the front counter to get a glimpse of the interns, including Loki. The bakery was free of customers for the moment. Clint caught sight of them and choked on his laughter.

            “Oh, my…” Steve breathed.

            Tony burst out laughing, bending over and holding his sides.  “Holy shit! Yes! This is karma. I don’t know what I did, but _thank you._ ”

            Natasha punched him between the shoulder blades. He straightened up and coughed to banish his chuckles. Standing just inside the door was a girl with long brown hair, gorgeous eyes behind a pair of glasses, and a beat up messenger bag littered with pins. This was Darcy. Next to her stood Peter, all gangly limbs and messy brown hair that was surely his trademark. There was one other thing that really stuck out about him.

            He looked about ten years old.

            Clint pointed at Peter. “How old are you?”

            A flush spread over his face in the blink of an eye. “Sixteen.”

            Clint shot Natasha a look. “I thought you said they were college kids.”

            “I am a college student,” Peter told him hesitantly. “I, uh, skipped a few grades. And I tested out of all my senior classes.”

            Tony grinned maniacally and walked over to loop his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I like your taste, Natasha. Good pick, this one. I’m kidnapping him now. He’s mine. C’mon kid.”

            Natasha grabbed Tony as he pulled poor Peter towards his office. “Hold it, Tony. Peter needs to go through his orientation first. Go entertain yourself for an hour or two, and then he’s all yours.”

            Tony grumbled, but let go of Peter and retreated to his office.

            Peter shot Natasha a grateful look. “I know I’m young, but I really am capable of doing anything a college kid could do.”

            “You cannot buy mead,” Thor pointed out.

            “Or porn,” Clint added.

            Peter’s blush was slowly returning. Darcy stepped up beside him defensively.

            “Leave him alone, or I’ll douse you in kerosene and hire a troupe of fire eaters to dance around you and burn your eyebrows off, one hair at a time!” she threatened.

            Loki perked up and studied her, a small smile on his lips.

            Clint grinned. “You must be Darcy.”

            “Damn straight,” she nodded. “Let’s get this orientation on the road, shall we?”

            “Right,” Natasha cleared her throat. “I’m Natasha. I run the front of the house. I take care of the orders and the display case. The smartass in the apron is Clint, the head decorator. Then you have Bruce and Steve, our bakers, who are the nicest of the bunch, and then there’s Thor and his brother Loki. Thor runs deliveries for us. Loki doesn’t technically work with us, but he’s always here, so you’ll have to get used to him. The creepy guy was Tony. He owns the bakery and pays the bills, so we try to keep our assassination attempts to a minimum. Any questions so far?”

            Peter shook his head, not meeting Natasha’s eyes. Darcy shrugged.

            “Good. Follow me into the kitchen and I’ll teach you how to use the equipment,” Natasha ordered.

 

 

            A few hours later, the bakery was left in the hands of Thor, Loki, Steve, Clint, and the interns. Tony had a meeting with the mayor, who was interested in hiring the bakery to cater the community fair next month, and he insisted that Natasha and Bruce come along to negotiate the culinary part of the deal. Steve patiently taught Darcy and Peter to make the bakery’s second-best selling cupcake, a simple vanilla cupcake with a honey and ginger glaze. He slid the tins into the oven and left Peter to watch over them. Steve and Darcy moved to the front of the bakery to take over the counter. Loki wandered into the kitchen a short time after that. Peter was leaning against the wall, watching the timer slowly tick down. The smell of the cupcakes wafted through the kitchen, and Peter had to admit they smelled pretty good for plain vanilla cupcakes. The timer finally went off and Peter moved toward the oven.

            Loki shifted to block him. Peter caught himself before he plowed into the somewhat eerie man.

            “What are you doing?” Loki demanded.

            Peter blanched. “Getting the cupcakes out of the oven.”

            Loki glared at him. “Not correctly. What are you missing, boy genius?”

            Peter thought hard, trying to remember if he’d forgotten anything. The lightbulb flashed on and swallowed hard.

            “The honey spritz?” Peter guessed.

            Loki’s eyes narrowed.

            “The honey spritz,” Peter repeated with more confidence.

            Loki moved out of his way. Peter let out a sigh of relief and opened the oven. He sprayed the cupcakes with the honey mixture that Steve had given him and reset the timer for two minutes. He returned the spritz to the shelf and waited for the timer once again. Loki was standing right next to the oven, watching the cupcakes intently. The timer beeped and Loki turned it off with a violent slap. He spun around and stared at Peter.

            “Well?” he demanded. “Aren’t you going to get them? Or do you want them to burn? To be _ruined_. Inedible. Vanilla flavored briquettes. Products of your first _failure_.”

            “N..no?” Peter squeaked, inching towards the oven.

            Loki huffed dramatically and took a large step away from the oven. Peter edged toward it, remembering to grab the oven mitts from the drawer Steve had shown him earlier. He started to slide them on, but Loki’s icy voice stopped him.

            “No,” Loki commanded.

            Peter froze and looked up at him, wide eyed.

            Loki crossed his arms. “Retrieve them without the gloves, child. You have no need of them. Do you?”

            Peter gulped and glanced at the oven.

            “ _Do you?_ ” Loki repeated viciously. “Or would you rather fail on your first day? To have wasted a whole day in this hell house without receiving one iota of a credit.”

            Peter squelched a groan and removed the gloves. He started toward the oven like a condemned man, feeling Loki’s eyes on him the whole way. He wrapped his hand around the handle of the oven and hesitated only a beat before pulling it open. He reached for the first pan, bracing himself for the searing pain that he was almost positive he was going to be experiencing pretty soon.

            The kitchen door burst open and Steve nearly tackled Peter. Steve kicked the oven door closed and turned toward the front of the bakery.

            “Thor get your brother right now!” he shouted.

            Loki smirked and sauntered away, sending Peter a little wave. He passed Darcy on his way towards the counter. He paused and nodded at her, a more friendly gesture than anyone had ever received within twenty-four hours of making Loki’s acquaintance. Steve slid the oven mitts on and removed the cupcake tins, leaving them on the cooling racks.

            He turned to Peter and sighed. “You okay, kiddo? Loki can be a bit…much, sometimes.”

            Peter swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’m fine. He’s not that bad. If he hadn’t reminded me to spray the cupcakes-“    

            “ _Spritz_ ,” Darcy corrected. “Hey, these actually look really good. What’s next?”

            Clint stuck his head in the kitchen. “Now you’re mine. We’re gonna dunk them in the glaze and then dip the rims in rock sugar.”

            Darcy grinned. “Awesome.”

            Clint looked at Peter. “Don’t feel bad, man. Loki’s a dick to everybody. You get used to it, after a while.”

            “I’ve dealt with worse,” Peter shrugged.

            Steve’s brow furrowed. “Worse than Loki?”

            Peter looked at the ground. “Yeah, these kids I went to school with…Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Let’s rim the cupcakes.”

            Darcy and Clint glanced at each other. Clint bit his lip hard. Darcy let out a hysterical squeak. Steve looked at them, confused.

            Peter groaned. “Grow up! That’s not what I meant!”

            Clint and Darcy were howling now, holding onto the counters for support. Steve rescued a pot of caramel from their flailing limbs and shot them both a disapproving look. Clint finally got control of himself and elbowed Peter in the ribs.

            “Learn to laugh at yourself, kid,” Clint suggested. “Or you’ll spend a lot of time here watching other people flailing on the floor in fits of hysteria.”

            “He’s being serious,” Steve said over his shoulder. “And he’s right.”

            Clint winked. “Always am.”

           

            


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Loki are in cahoots, Clint is pissed, and it is NOT a date.

After the cupcake fiasco, Loki was asked to stay out of the kitchen while Peter and Darcy were being trained. He largely ignored this request and spent the majority of the time following Darcy like a shadow. She, of course, basked in this, deliberately tossing flour over her shoulder at him. Steve noticed after the first couple of times and half-heartedly reprimanded her. He actually thought throwing flour at Loki sounded like a decent idea, but he was afraid Loki would snap and dump the pan of melted sugar on the girl. Peter, on the other hand, gave Loki a wide berth and stayed silent unless Steve addressed him directly. When the others returned from their meeting with the mayor, Steve released Peter to Tony and left Darcy in the kitchen while he helped Thor pack up the delivery truck.

            Darcy wandered around the kitchen, snooping through the seemingly endless array of kitchen utensils and equipment. She could hear the radio blaring up in Clint’s workshop. Behind it, there was a small tinkering sound, like someone playing with a screwdriver. She poked her head out of the kitchen and looked around. Natasha was gone, probably overseeing the packing of the truck. She could hear Tony and Bruce’s voices in the office, and she assumed Peter was with them. Clint was singing along with the radio on the balcony overhead. And Loki was crouched at the bottom of the ladder that led up to the small workshop. Darcy crossed her arms over her chest and crept up behind Loki, peering over his shoulder.

            “Are you unscrewing the ladder?” she whispered.

            Loki didn’t flinch, but he paused the sharp twists of the screwdriver in his hand. “Indeed. Do you wish to stop me?”

            “Hell no. You have another screwdriver? I’ll get the bolts at the top,” Darcy offered.

            Loki smirked and withdrew an extra tool from his jacket. He held the loose ladder steady as Darcy climbed slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible. She removed the screws that held the ladder against the balcony and carefully made her way to the ground. Between she and Loki, they got the ladder horizontal and out the back door without being spotted. They propped it against the wall of the alley and took up their positions by the counter inside.

            “Why do you two look like you just stowed a body in my freezer?” Tony asked on his way to the kitchen.

            “Just wait,” Darcy warned.

            Tony shot her an interested look. “What should I be looking for?”

            Darcy shrugged. “Who knows? Some things just fall from the sky.”

            Tony whipped around to study the balcony. His face was blank, confused as he scanned the small area. His face lit up and his eyes sparked happily.

            “You did that?” he whispered excitedly.

            Loki grinned. “We thought it might be fun to test our little artist.”

            Tony shook his head. “If you hear him start packing up, you scream for me. I want to see this.”

            Darcy saluted him and he pushed into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind him. Up above, the volume of the radio was turned down a notch. They could hear Clint whistling and fumbling with his tools. Tony shot out of the kitchen and leaned against the counter, shoving half a cookie in his mouth. All three of them leaned forward, waiting for Clint to make the discovery. The radio was clicked off and the whistling turned to humming. The balcony doors clicked shut and Darcy bit her lip to squelch a groan of impatience. All of a sudden, the humming was cut short. There was a stumbling sound and a loud curse from the balcony. Clint ripped the curtain back and glared down at them.

            “Where in the fuck is the ladder?” he demanded.

            Darcy looked up at him innocently. “Why would we know where it went? I didn’t even notice it was gone. It was probably looters who thought the building was abandoned.”

            “Looters?” he growled. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

            Darcy shrugged. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I think Steve’s calling me in the kitchen. See you later, Clint.”

            She and Loki stood and ducked into the kitchen. Tony smirked up at Clint, still chewing.

            “How the fuck am I supposed to get down?” Clint muttered, mostly to himself.

            “Spread your wings and fly, little birdie!” Darcy shouted through the kitchen door.

            “Oh, sweetheart, this is _war_!” Clint yelled back.

            He yanked the curtains together and Tony could hear the balcony doors being thrust open with gusto. There was a fair amount of muttering and swearing sweeping in from the open balcony, accompanied by thumps and creeks. There was a loud shout, then a crash. Outside, someone screamed. Tony froze. Darcy sprinted in from the kitchen.

            “Oh my god, did he die? I totally didn’t mean for him to kill himself,” she insisted, heading for the front door.

            The door was ripped open and Clint stomped in, with Natasha a few steps behind him. Clint crossed the room and stopped about three inches from Darcy.

            He stared her down. “It is on, sunshine.”

            “Bring it,” Darcy challenged.

            Natasha shoved them apart. “Enough, children! Darcy, Clint, go to your separate corners.”

            They stalked off, Darcy to the kitchen, and Clint to search for his missing ladder. Natasha sighed and put her hands on her hips.

            Tony cleared his throat. “Did he really just jump off the balcony?”

            “What do you think?” Natasha replied, arching an eyebrow.

 

           

            A couple of days later, Darcy and Peter had finally gotten the hang of things at the bakery. Peter spent his mornings with Steve and Bruce in the kitchen, waiting for Tony to roll in around eleven. Then, he hung out with him, attempting to suck some sort of experience out of their time together. It rarely worked. Clint and Darcy were at war. Three dozen cupcakes had been stuck, frosting side down, on the outside of Darcy’s car when she woke up the morning of her second day at the bakery. That afternoon, when Clint was out with Natasha on a supply run, Darcy and Loki snuck up to the balcony and switched around all of Clint’s supplies. In turn, Clint dumped a bucket of powdered sugar over Darcy on her way out of the bakery that night. The next morning when Clint sat down on his stool, he discovered that every flat surface had been given a thin coat of sugar glaze- including his seat. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t realize this until after the glaze had hardened like glue. He spent the rest of the day in his boxers, and wasn’t allowed to come down from the balcony until every customer had left. This morning, Clint had prepared his retaliation. 

            “Where the bloody hell has Thor gotten to?” Loki groused, pacing in front of the counter.

            Tony glanced up from his phone. “Thor won’t be in today. I gave him the day off so he could go visit Jane. They haven’t seen each other in a while and he seemed bummed. You’ll have to handle the deliveries on your own today. Actually- you can take the interns.”

            Darcy and Peter glanced up from the trays of cookies they were arranging for the display case. Darcy looked thrilled, Peter looked terrified. Loki jerked his head at them, gesturing for them to follow him. With one foot out the door, Darcy was jerked back by the strap of her bag.

            “Not so fast, princess,” Clint chuckled. “You’re my lovely assistant today. Go get an apron.”

            “But Loki needs me to help deliver cakes!” she protested.

            Clint smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll be delivering cakes. All the way up to the balcony.”

            Peter shot Darcy a look of panic.

            She pulled him to the side. “Relax, Bambi, he doesn’t bite. Loki’s harmless unless provoked.”

            “Yeah? He tried to get me to take hot tins out of the oven with my _bare hands_!” Peter stressed.

            Darcy rolled her eyes. “You’re the jackass who was going to actually do it! Look, just be nice. Don’t ask questions, don’t tap the window, and don’t drop the delivery. You’ll be fine.”

            Peter swallowed hard and shuffled to the passenger door of the delivery truck. He hoisted himself up into the seat and cast a sideways glance at Loki. Loki put the truck in drive and started off, passing the order book to Peter.

            “You’re navigating. Once we get on Main Street, you’ll need to pay attention,” Loki instructed.

            Peter nodded dutifully and stared straight out the windshield.

            “Tell me, child,” Loki spoke suddenly, “Why do you fear me?”

            Peter froze, wide eyed. “Wh- I…What?”

            Loki shot him a look. “Do not act as if you haven’t a clue what I’m speaking of. Why do I frighten you?”

            “You’re…kind of intimidating,” Peter admitted hesitantly. “And the whole cupcake thing didn’t really help.”

            Loki’s mouth curved up proudly. “Oh, that. It was just a little test. To see how much power I held over you. Now, consult the book and tell me where we’re going.”

            Peter glanced down at the page. “Turn right on Edison. Go straight for about a mile, then take a left on Matthews. You’re going to take that north until it veers into Millenium Estates. Our customer is the first house on the right.”

           

            Three deliveries later, Loki handed Peter the keys.

            “Your turn, child,” Loki announced. “It’s time for our last run.”

            Peter took the keys hesitantly and climbed into the cab of the truck. Loki took possession of the order book and flipped it to the correct page. He showed Peter the map and traced a route with one slender finger.

            “Our next delivery is due in half an hour. You have twenty-five minutes to get us there, without breaking any laws. If we’re late, I will drive you to the farthest edge of the city, kick you out of the truck, and make you walk back to the bakery. Are we clear?” Loki cocked an eyebrow.

            Peter sighed and pulled onto the road. “Got it. What’s the address again?”

            Loki rattled off the set of numbers and a street name. Peter hit the breaks and snatched the book out of Loki’s hands. Loki yelped in surprise.

            Peter’s head snapped up. “Sorry, sorry. I just… the address seemed familiar. Sorry.”

            “Stop apologizing, child,” Loki snapped. “If you care to do that again, please find it in your heart to restrain yourself. If you don’t, you will wake covered in leeches.”

            Peter gripped the steering wheel tightly and hit the gas, hoping Darcy was having better luck than he was.

 

            “Okay, these are the cakes that I need brought upstairs,” Clint instructed, sweeping an arm over the counter holding a half dozen cakes of various sizes and flavors. “When you get them all up, then I’ll let you decorate one, any way you want to. Got it?”

            Darcy nodded seriously. “Yes, I think I’ll manage to remember all of that.”

            Clint smiled pleasantly. “I’ll be waiting.”

            He left Darcy and clambered up to his nest. Darcy turned her back on him and grabbed a nice sized chocolate cake with a raspberry filling, and an orange spice cake speckled with coarse flakes of nutmeg. She pushed the kitchen door open with her back and strode toward the ladder confidently. It would only take her two or three trips to get the cakes upstairs, and then she could go to town with all of Clint’s cool little toys and treasures. She put her foot on the first rung of the ladder and realized the flaw in her planning. With a cake in each hand, she had no way to hold onto the ladder. She leaned forward, dropping her chest against the bars and shifting her weight to bring her other foot up to the next rung. It took her five minutes to make it a quarter of the way up. She stepped onto the eighth or ninth rung and the cake in her left hand wobbled. Darcy balanced it out quickly- just in time, actually, for the cake in her right hand to topple off of its plate and land with a splat on the floor. Darcy swore loudly, stomping one foot against the rung. She was pretty sure she heard Clint laughing above her. She made it within arm’s reach of the balcony when she lost her hold on the other cake and the floor was spattered with creamy orange filling.

            “Motherfucking ass shit goodamn!” Darcy yelled, slapping her palms against the ladder.

            Clint’s face appeared above hers. “Having a little trouble, Darce?”

            “Fuck you, and your little cakes, too,” she seethed.

            He grinned sweetly. “It would have been a lot easier if you’d put them in the dumbwaiter.”

            Darcy slowly looked up at him. “The dumbwaiter? Are you fucking kidding me, Clint? I just dropped two of the most delicious looking cakes I have ever seen on the floor because you didn’t tell me you had a damn dumbwaiter?!”        

            “You never asked,” Clint replied.

            Darcy groaned in annoyance and stomped down the ladder. As she retrieved the mop and bucket from the closet, she wondered how Peter was doing with Loki.

           

            “Tick, tock. Tick, tock,” Loki murmured. “You’ve only got ten minutes left, child. And such a long way to go.”

            Peter huffed. “Well the directions you’re giving me are taking me all over!”

            “Oh, my!” Loki’s voice dripped with faux surprise. “I seem to have given you the wrong directions. We’re on the opposite side of town. Whatever will you do?”

            Peter bit back his response and peered around at the street signs. One of them sparked a memory and he turned at the last minute, throwing Loki against his door. Peter glanced at the clock and pressed the gas down a little harder. He jerked the wheel to the right and guided the truck through a narrow alley that was used for city vehicles. He took a service road that wound in and out of alleyways, feeling Loki’s gaze on him the whole time. Peter turned onto a residential street and parked outside a familiar house with three minutes to spare.

            Loki turned to him, a blank look on his face.

            “I know the guy who lives here. He showed me the shortcut,” Peter explained.

            Loki glanced up at the house. “Get the boxes.”

            Peter removed the key from the ignition and released the latch on the back door, sliding it up. He grabbed the last two black boxes and attached a copy of the order to the top. He followed Loki up to the front door and did his best to become anonymous behind the cardboard boxes of baked goods. Loki pressed the doorbell firmly. Not a full minute later, the door was wrenched open.

            “Hey, man. Good to see you,” a voice called warmly.

            Peter slowly lifted his head. “Hey, Wade.”

            The college-aged boy grinned. “Since when do you bake, Parker?”

            “I don’t. Professor Fury got me a work experience program with the owner of Shield Bakery. The usual delivery guy is off today. I’m just helping out,” Peter explained.

            Loki was watching him curiously. Peter passed the boxes to Wade, stiffening when their fingers brushed against each other. Loki’s eyes zoomed in on this little twitch, filing it away for future use.

            Wade signed the slip and passed it back to Peter. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You should come out with me tomorrow night. I’m going to this show downtown. You’d probably like it. And you can drag my drunk ass home afterwards.”

            Peter nodded, awestruck. “Y-yeah. Okay. Sure.”

            Back in the truck, Loki stared at Peter silently, his eyes boring into the side of his face. Peter could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

            “What?” he asked defensively.

            Loki narrowed his eyes.

            “Are we going back to the bakery now?” Peter asked.

            Loki waited a long time before nodding. “Drive on, child.”

           

            “The child has a date tomorrow evening,” Loki announced when they returned to the bakery.

            Peter’s jaw dropped. “Loki!”

            “Do you deny it, then?” Loki shot back. “Need I remind you that I was there? I saw the whole drooling mess with my own eyes.”

            “Please, for the love of god-“ Peter begged.

            Tony lounged against the wall. “A date? With who? Why are you blushing like that?”

            Darcy flung herself down the ladder. “Wait- you’ve got a date? With-“

            “Stop!” Peter yelled.

            “I’m excited, though!” she shouted back. “We have been waiting for this so long! Where are you going? What are you doing? Do you need new clothes?”

            Peter buried his face in his hands. “Please…”

            “Who is the lucky girl?” Tony badgered.

            “It isn’t a girl,” Loki informed him.

            Tony’s grin widened. “All right, kiddo!”

            Darcy grabbed Peter’s shoulders. “Okay, we’ve been preparing for this our whole lives-“

            “No, we haven’t. I’ve known you for two years,” Peter moaned.

            “-and we know what we have to do,” Darcy continued.

            Steve walked into the room with Bruce, wiping his hands on his apron. “What’s going on?”

            “Peter’s got a date with some guy tomorrow,” Clint filled them in.

            Steve smiled. “Hey, that’s great, Peter.”

            “I’m going to throw myself into a black hole,” Peter said into his palms.

            Darcy shook him. “Are you even listening? We need to make a drug store run. We can get junk food and apricots and pumpkin, and I’ll make that kick ass face scrub I found last year!”

“With junk food?” Clint asked dubiously.

            Darcy waved him away. “No, with the fruit. What do you need, Peter? New jeans? New shoes? Shaving cream?”

            “I don’t even shave,” Peter muttered.

            “Shut up, I’m talking!” Darcy shouted. “You don’t need condoms, do you? Don’t fuck on the first date, Peter. That’s not classy.”

            Peter threw his hands up in the air. “Dear god, will you please just stop! It isn’t a date!”

            The room fell silent.

            “Are you sure?” Darcy asked.

            Peter sighed. “Yeah, I’m positive. There was a lot of awkwardness, a little bit of joking, but no mention of a date.”

            “It’s a date,” Loki said simply. “Trust me.”

            Peter groaned loudly and pushed his way out of the bakery, muttering the whole way.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Until Clint tripped over a familiar backpack. He caught himself on the wall and stooped to examine the bag.   
>  “What’s up, Clint?” Natasha asked, concerned.  
>  Clint studied the bag, trying to place it. “I’m not-“   
>  “UHNG!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: hate crime/abuse

“Stop what you’re doing!” Tony shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Everyone stop what you’re doing and come here.”

            Natasha ignored him, continuing to spray down the inside of the recently emptied display case. Bruce and Steve pushed through the kitchen door, both of them sweaty and covered in ingredients. Clint pulled his curtain back and flipped off the radio, but didn’t descend the ladder. Darcy and Peter were the only ones who obeyed Tony’s command.

            Tony, oblivious to the fact that no one was paying attention, continued, “Pack up your shit and make yourselves presentable. I’m rewarding your hard work by taking you all out to dinner. We’re leaving in an hour! Interns, too.”

            “Thanks, Tony, but I can’t,” Peter said. “I’ve got a lab tonight that I can’t miss. I was just getting ready to leave.”

            Tony’s shoulders drooped a little. “Oh, come on, Peter! Just take one night off.”

            Steve put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, don’t encourage him to skip class. If it’s something he needs to do, you should support it, not try to talk him out of it.”

            Tony grumbled but let it go.

            “You bailing, too, Darce?” Clint asked from the balcony.

            Darcy slung her bag over her shoulder. “Yeah. I’m driving Parker to his class and then I’m meeting some friends downtown.”

            Tony sighed dramatically. “Anyone else want to crush my hopes and dreams? Clint, you seem to enjoy that.”

            “Not tonight. I’m starving,” Clint said over his shoulder, starting down the ladder.

            Darcy and Peter said their goodbyes and pushed out the front door together.

            “Do you want to borrow my car tomorrow for your date?” Darcy asked, holding the door for Peter.

            Peter shook his head, a long suffering, “why me” sort of motion. Darcy clapped him on the shoulder and dropped the door, cutting off what she said next.

            Clint watched them through the front window. “Poor kid.”

           

 

            “I can’t believe you challenged Natasha to a spaghetti eating contest! What a fucking idiot!” Clint crowed.

            Tony shoved him away, moaning. “Leave me alone. Let me die in peace.”

            Natasha punched him in the shoulder. “Man up, Stark. You’ll feel better in a block or two.”

            “Steve, please carry me,” Tony begged. “I will love you forever.”

            “You love me anyway,” Steve pointed out, slipping an arm around Tony.

            He rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Bless you, my hero.”

            Clint covered his ears. “Enough of your sappy shit, already! God, when is this honeymoon phase going to wear off? It’s been three years!”

            Natasha looped her arm through his. “Leave them alone, Clint. It’s cute.”

            They walked silently for a few minutes, taking in the sights and sounds of the city nightlife. The sidewalks were bustling and the bright lights of the storefronts spilled out into the streets, merging with the headlights of traffic. A crowd of teenage girls stumbled out of a clothing boutique, laughing loudly. They turned toward the group of bakery workers, who paired off and moved to the side to let them pass. Clint and Natasha took the lead, with Steve and Tony behind them, and Bruce and Loki bringing up the rear. This was comfortable for them, being together, but alone all the same. The walked on, blissfully ignorant of the rest of the world.

            Until Clint tripped over a familiar backpack. He caught himself on the wall and stooped to examine the bag.

            “What’s up, Clint?” Natasha asked, concerned.

            Clint studied the bag, trying to place it. “I’m not-“  

            “ _UHNG!”_

_“Get up, fag!”_

Clint stood quickly, realization hitting him head on. He sprinted down the alley to his left, leaving the rest of the group to stumble along behind him. Ahead, he could just barely make out a handful of dark forms, all crowded around a huddled figure on the concrete, kicking the living daylights out of it. Clint sped up, starting to shout.

            “Hey! Get the fuck away from him! Stop it!” he slammed into the first guy, forcing him to the ground.

            He was up in an instant, jacking another guy in the jaw and connecting with another’s nose, sending him sprawling against the wall. At this point, Steve and Natasha were by his side, and the three of them formed a protective circle around the heap of battered flesh passed out on the ground. The bullies all scrambled to their feet and took off down the alley, where they were met by Tony, Loki, and Bruce.

            Clint dropped to his knees and gingerly rolled the body onto his back. “Dammit, Parker. Why’d you have to go to the lab?”

            Natasha knelt next to him. “Careful. He’s definitely got some broken ribs.”

            Peter moaned quietly as Natasha gently pressed her fingertips against his sides. She held him still while Clint checked for other broken bones or deep wounds. When he finished, Steve carefully lifted Peter off the dirty ground and cradled him in his arms, carrying him out of the alley and into the cab Tony had flagged down. Tony slid into the backseat next to Steve, pulling Peter’s legs onto his lap. He scooted closer to Steve and patted Peter’s ankle.

            “You’ll be okay, kiddo. I promise,” Tony murmured.

           

            Peter opened his eyes slowly, blinking hard at the harsh lights above him. He groaned and moved to sit up, immediately regretting his decision and sinking back against the pillow. He swallowed hard to keep from shouting or crying. There was the swooshing sound of a curtain being pulled back and he was surrounded by faces.

            “Hey, kiddo,” Tony smiled uncertainly. “How are you feeling?”

            Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “What happened?”

            “What do you remember?” Clint asked.

            Peter sighed. “Being pulled into an alley by a bunch of boneheads. And then I heard you. But I also remember flying elephants and cocaine covered flowers, so that could’ve been a dream.”

            “How are you feeling, Peter?” Natasha repeated.

            “Sore,” he admitted. “But I’m fine. Thanks, guys. Hey, you didn’t call-“

            “PARKER!”

            Peter’s stomach dropped. He turned his head to the side.

            “Hey, Wade. How’s it going?” Peter asked casually.

            Wade crossed his arms. “What happened?”

            “How did you know-“ Peter glanced around.

            “I’m your emergency contact, boy genius. You live alone in the city. You’re one of the clumsiest, most accident-prone kids I’ve ever met. You were bound to end up at a hospital at some point. When the nurse at admissions ran your name, they found my number and called me,” Wade explained.

            Peter nodded slowly, letting this sink in. “You put yourself down as my emergency contact?”

            “Don’t change the subject. What happened?” Wade demanded.

            Peter reddened. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

            Wade shot him a look. “You have three broken ribs, a sprained wrist, and you’ve got bruises everywhere. Did you get hit by a bus?”

            Tony cleared his throat. “Actually he was attacked in an alley.”

            Wade’s jaw dropped. “Wh- Are you fucking kidding me? Peter, why the hell were you in an alley?”

            “I wasn’t, I was on the street. I got dragged into the alley,” Peter clarified.

            Wade threw his hands up. “Oh, okay, that’s much better. Who hurt you, Peter? Who were they?”

            Though Wade had asked the question, Peter could sense that everyone was watching him, waiting for his answer. He hesitated, looking down at his hands. His left hand was dwarfed by the thick white bandaging around his wrist. His ribs stung even when he was still, and he had scratches and bruises up and down both arms. He could feel a cut throbbing on his lip and his jaw ached. An icy hand touched his shoulder, jerking him out of his thoughts. Peter looked up at Loki, whose eyes flashed.

            “Tell us, child,” he prodded.

            Peter swallowed. “I-I don’t know. It was dark and there were a lot of them. I don’t know who they were.”

            Loki’s fingers tightened on his shoulder for a second. Peter winced, waiting for Loki to call him out on his lie. It never came, though. Loki let go of Peter and stalked out of the room, knocking the curtain aside angrily and nearly colliding with the doctor trying to enter the room.

            “Mr. Parker, I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’m Dr. Hall. How are you feeling?” The doctor shone a penlight in Peter’s eyes.

            Peter flinched away from the light. “I feel fine.”

            “Good, good. How are those ribs doing? Are you experiencing any pain?” Dr. Hall examined the bruises on Peter’s arms.

            “Not really,” Peter lied.

            Steve shot him a sharp look.

            Dr. Hall looked doubtful. He turned toward the visitors. “If I could ask you all to step into the hall for a few moments so I can finish my examination?”

            “Of course,” Steve nodded, herding everyone toward the door.

            Natasha shot Peter a look that told him he was going to be fine. Peter smiled gratefully. Wade was the last to leave, lingering by the door until everyone else had passed. He winked at Peter and pulled the door closed behind him.

            Dr. Hall cleared his throat. “Now, Peter, you need to be honest. I saw what you looked like when you came in here a few hours ago. You have multiple broken ribs and a sprained wrist. So how about we try that again. How are you feeling?”

            “A little sore, I guess. My ribs don’t hurt that much,” Peter admitted.

            Dr. Hall raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Why don’t you sit up for me?”

            Peter braced himself, gritting his teeth and pushed his body into a sitting position. It felt like his body was going to explode and it hurt to breathe. He forced a smile and gestured to his body.

            “See, Doc? Just fine,” he panted.

            Dr. Hall shook his head. “Okay, here’s the deal Peter. If you swear to me that you’ll stay off your feet and take it easy for a week, I’ll let you go home today. None of your ribs were broken too badly, so relieving the stress put on them for a little while should help them heal up quickly. We’ll give you a brace for your wrist, and I want you to wear it all the time this week. I want you to come back here in a week, and I’ll make sure you’re healing correctly. Deal?”

            “Deal,” Peter agreed quickly.

            Dr. Hall gestured towards the hall. “You want them let back in?”

            “Yeah,” Peter nodded.

            Dr. Hall opened the door and ushered everyone inside. “I’ve decided to release Peter today. As soon as he gets his ribs rewrapped and gets his wrist brace, he’s free to go. He’ll need to take it easy for the next week or so, and come back to see me next Thursday. Which one of you lives with him?”

            There was a long pause of dead silence. Dr. Hall glanced around from face to face.

            “We do,” Steve said suddenly, pointing between himself and Tony.

            Peter’s jaw dropped. Tony looked surprised, but quickly rearranged his features to cover it.

            Dr. Hall continued on, ignoring the odd looks everyone was giving Steve. “Peter is going to be needing quite a bit of help. I’ll prescribe him some pain medication and an antibiotic for all of his cuts and scrapes, just in case. You’ll need to help him wrap his ribs, as well. They need to be kept bound as long as they can, to keep them from healing incorrectly. Can you handle that?”

            “Absolutely,” Steve assured the doctor.

            Dr. Hall gave them a few more instructions about completing paper work and left. Peter lay back down slowly, biting back a groan. Wade dropped into the chair next to him.

            “Parker, how the hell did you convince that doctor to let you go?” Wade asked suspiciously. “You should be locked up in a hospital room for a month.”

            “I think that’s a little extensive, Wade,” Peter muttered.

            Out in the hall, there was a sudden, loud commotion. Someone was shouting, a woman from the sounds of it. They could hear stiletto heels clacking unevenly on the linoleum. Peter’s door burst open and Darcy braced herself against the frame. She had obviously gotten the call while she was at a bar. Her hair was messy and she was missing a jacket. She wobbled over to Peter’s bed and planted her hands on the mattress, careful not to touch him.

            “Are y’okay, Bambi? I came a’soon as I heard. Wha the fuck happened?” Darcy slurred quietly.

            Peter patted Darcy’s hand reassuringly. “I’m fine, Darcy. Who called you?”

            “Loki,” Darcy looked at Peter like he was losing his mind. “Duh. By the way, tha guy looks _so_ pissed. He’s gonna kill s’mbody.”

            Steve tensed and hurried out of the room, off to find Loki before he lost it and started slaughtering people.

            Darcy looked around, spotting Wade. “Hey! ‘Is Wade, guys! Hey, Wade. Lookin’ good.”

            Wade flashed her a smile. “Did you swallow a liquor store?”

            “Yep,” Darcy wagged her finger at him. “Y’know me so well, Wade.”

            “Aren’t you cold, Darcy? You didn’t walk here did you?” Peter asked worriedly.

            Darcy waved him off. “Oh, relax, I’m fine.”

            “You’re wearing a tank top,” Peter argued.

            “You’re wearing a dress!” Darcy yelled back.

            Clint grabbed Darcy’s shoulder. “Hey, Darce, let’s go get some coffee, okay?”

            Darcy glared at Clint. “If this is a trick, I’n gonna kick your ass.”

            Natasha hooked her arm through Darcy’s. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

            “Girl power!” Darcy yelled, thrusting one fist in the air and almost punching Clint in the process.

           

 

            A few hours later, Peter was in the back of a cab between Tony and Steve, groggy from the dose of pain medication they’d given him before he left the hospital. His head bobbed involuntarily, falling back against the seat and jerking forward. His eyes drooped closed, and he didn’t have the strength to force them back open. Tony chuckled, watching Peter. Steve draped his arm across the back of the seat. Peter listed to the side, falling against Steve. The cab was filled with the light sounds of his snores. Tony patted Steve’s hand where it rested against his shoulder and shot him a smile. The cab slowed and drew even with the curb.

            The cabbie turned back toward them, keeping his voice low. “You guys need help getting the kid inside?”

            Steve smiled gratefully. “Thank you, but we can manage.”

            The cabbie returned his smile. “He reminds me of my kid. Same crazy hair.”

            Tony offered the cabbie a handful of bills before opening the door and holding it for Steve. Steve carefully picked Peter up, holding him against his chest to keep from waking him. There was no danger of that. Peter was out like a light, and it didn’t look like he’d be waking up any time soon.

            Tony raced ahead of him to open the door of their small house, nearly tripping over the steps that led up to the porch. Tony held the door and flipped on the lights as he went. They brought Peter up to the guest bedroom and Steve laid him down carefully. Tony grabbed an extra blanket from the dresser and spread it over Peter’s sleeping form. He dragged an arm chair next to the night table and collapsed into it.

            “Are you going to stay here all day, Tony?” Steve asked, leaning over the back of the chair.

            Tony shrugged. “I don’t want him to wake up in a place he doesn’t recognize. I’ve done that before. It’s not fun, and it’s kind of scary.”

            Steve rubbed Tony’s shoulders. “You should get some sleep, Tony. Peter’ll be out for a while.”

            “I will in a little bit. I’ll just stay here a few minutes later,” Tony mumbled.

            Steve kissed Tony’s cheek. “Whatever you say. I’m going to run over to the bakery for a couple of hours. We’ve got a huge order that we can’t put off. I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

            Tony watched him go, unashamedly checking out his ass. He sighed and propped his feet on the edge of the bed. Peter mumbled in his sleep, his mouth falling open. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tugged herself free on the sidewalk. “What was that all about?”  
> “I need alcohol,” Peter moaned.   
> Darcy grinned. “Right on. But no pain pills. Hand ‘em over.”

Peter woke up with his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his legs throw over the side of the bed. He blinked away the sleep in his eyes and yawned. The cut on his lip pulled uncomfortably, and the events of the past day- or however long he’d been asleep- came rushing back to him. He sighed slowly, testing out his ribs. The pain had gone down quite a bit, but he was still sore, and he suspected moving might still be a challenge. He sat up slowly, wincing only slightly as he did so. Peter looked around the room appraisingly. The curtains had been drawn over both windows. There was a blanket draped over an armchair that had been dragged to the side of the bed. A lamp on the dresser had been left on, and the door to the hall was cracked. Peter stood, and was surprised to find that he could do it without screaming in agony.

            He paused at the door and listened. He thought he heard voices downstairs, low and rumbling. Peter leaned heavily against the walls as he made his way down to the main level of the house. From the pictures in the stairwell, Peter was guessing this was Steve and Tony’s house. He stopped to catch his breath at the bottom of the stairs. The voices were still muffled, but he could hear them a little more clearly. He followed the sound to the back of the house, into what he assumed was the kitchen from the large stainless steel refrigerator directly across from the doorway.

Peter took a step into the kitchen and nearly bit his own tongue off trying to stifle a shriek of surprise. Steve had his back to him, bare ass naked from the waist down. Tony’s legs were wrapped around his hips and one hand, holding a spatula was resting against Steve’s lower back. The two men didn’t hear Peter’s entrance, and Peter scrambled out of the room as quietly as he could, the moans and giggles from the kitchen chasing him up the stairs. Peter moved faster than he should have, considering his condition. Peter collapsed against the bed, breathing heavily and shoving his fists against his eyes to block out the image of Steve and Tony fucking on the kitchen counter.

Downstairs, Steve heard a loud thud and froze, listening.

“Hey,” Tony swatted him on the ass with the spatula. “I’m not done with you.”

Steve grinned and pecked Tony. “You are for now. I think I heard Peter wake up. I don’t think we want to scar him this soon.”

Tony grumbled. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Toss me my pants.”

Steve passed him the clothing and glanced over at the stove. “Damn! I burnt the pancakes!”

“Good thing I have better uses for a spatula,” Tony growled into his neck, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist.

 

“You saw WHAT?!” Darcy shrieked, dropping her coffee cup.

It shattered, sending shards of pottery and hot coffee across the bakery floor.

Peter shushed her with the intensity of a hurricane. “Darcy! Quiet!”

“I’m sorry, Bambi, I’m just a little shocked. Give me a minute to adjust,” Darcy fanned herself dramatically.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t tell anyone. Got it?”

Darcy waved him off. “Hold on, I’m visualizing.”

Peter groaned. “You are ridiculous.”

“How exactly were they positioned?” Darcy asked.

“I hate you a little bit,” Peter said.

Darcy leaned closer. “You mentioned a spatula…?”

Peter dropped his head against the front counter in frustration. The kitchen door swung open and the footsteps came to a stop right next to him. He peeked up at Clint and groaned again, hiding in his arms.

“What’s with him?” Clint asked Darcy.

Darcy grinned. “He walked in on Tony and Steve this morning.”

Clint’s jaw dropped. “Oh my fucking god! You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Darcy shook her head. “He saw the whole shebang.”

“Jesus, Darcy, you make it sound like I watched them!” Peter lifted his head to glare at her. “And I thought I told you not to tell anyone.”

Darcy shrugged. “I took that as more of a suggestion.”

Clint grabbed Peter by the shoulders. “What. Happened.”

“I walked into the kitchen and they were…canoodling on the island,” Peter grimaced.

“With a _spatula_ ,” Darcy added.

Clint clapped gleefully. “Oh my god, that is awesome!”

“What’s awesome?”

All three flinched.

Clint spun around and did a finger wave. “Hey, Nat! How’s it going?”

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him. “In the five minutes we’ve been separated? Fine.”

“Good, good!” Clint rubbed his hands together. “Well, I’m going to go decorate something.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Natasha asked. “Right after Saturday morning shots?”

Clint grinned. “I’ve done some of my best work with more alcohol in my system than a couple of shots.”

“If you say so,” Natasha dismissed him.

Clint scrambled up the ladder. Peter dropped his head back to the counter. Darcy retrieved the mop and cleaned up her mess.

 

That afternoon, Peter was sorting through Shield buttons and magnets for an upcoming festival the bakery was working. He had his work spread out next to the register. He had been ordered to stay on a stool in this area until further notice. Everyone was taking his injuries far too seriously for his comfort. He wasn’t an invalid. He could carry a tray of cupcakes. It really wouldn’t kill him. Peter dumped a handful of pins into the proper bucket with more force than necessary. He slid off the stool and walked across the room to refill the magnet box. He heard Steve come into the front room, and almost instantly, Clint’s radio turned off and the curtain opened. Peter limped back to the counter carefully.

“How are you feeling, Peter?” Steve asked pleasantly.

Peter saluted with a small smile.

Steve’s smile faltered. “You sure? You look like you’re in pain. Is it time for your next dose of medicine? You took your antibiotics this morning, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did. And no, it isn’t. I’m fine, Steve. Just a little tired,” Peter explained.

Steve frowned. “Do you want me to drive you home so you can get some rest? We’re slow right now, and we’re ahead in orders.”

“I’m okay. Really,” Peter assured him.

From above, Clint cleared his throat. “Hey, Steve?”

Steve turned away from Peter. “Yeah, Clint?”

“Have you seen that new spatula?” Clint asked innocently.

Peter dropped the box full of magnets and they scattered across the floor, colliding with Steve’s feet. Clint made a choking noise. Steve was by Peter’s side in a flash.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he persisted.

Peter bent slowly to gather up the magnets. “Just clumsy.”

Steve wrung his hands nervously. “If you say so. When you finish here, I’m taking you home. I knew we shouldn’t have let you come in today.”

Tony strolled through the front door. “What’s all this?”

“I think Peter needs to go rest,” Steve informed him.

Tony stooped to help Peter. “Not feeling so hot, kiddo?”

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted.

Tony shrugged and dropped the rest of the magnets into Peter’s box. “If he says he’s okay, he’s okay, Steve. What do you guys want to do for dinner tonight?”

“How about pancakes?” Clint suggested from the rafters.

Peter tripped over his own feet and went down on one knee. Tony caught his elbow and helped him to his feet.

“Hey, maybe you should take it easy,” Tony said, steadying him. “You look a little pale.”

Clint chuckled, leaning over the ledge. “Yeah, kid, you look like _ass_.”

Steve clucked disapprovingly. “Clint, stop it. He’s sick.”

Peter sighed.

“Come on, kiddo. I’ll drive you back to the house. You can pass out for a little while, and everybody can come over for pancakes,” Tony said.

Peter looked alarmed. “No!”

Steve and Tony stared at him.

“I mean,” Peter cleared his throat. “I’m staying with Darcy tonight. She asked me to.”

“Oh,” Steve’s shoulders drooped.

Darcy joined them just then, followed by Bruce.

“Ah, there she is!” Peter dropped the box onto the counter. “We should probably get going so I can stop by my dorm. See ya, guys.”

Tony held out a hand. “Hang on a second, kiddo. Do you have your medicine? I’m not really one to talk, but you have to take it. We don’t want you getting pneumonia or something.”

“Pneumonia?” Bruce asked.

Tony waved his hands. “Whatever.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. Let’s go, Darcy,” Peter grabbed her hand and nearly yanked her out the door.

She tugged herself free on the sidewalk. “What was that all about?”

“I need alcohol,” Peter moaned.

Darcy grinned. “Right on. But no pain pills. Hand ‘em over.”

 

Darcy’s apartment could pass for a licensed bar. She had one of everything, in nearly every brand made. And she was an expert mixologist, though she really preferred straight liquor. When they got there, she immediately turned on her stereo and pulled a bottle of amber liquid and a couple of whiskey glasses out of a cabinet. She dropped a couple of perfectly square cubes in each glass and covered them with the contents of the bottle. She slid one over to Peter, who sniffed it experimentally.

“Jack Daniel’s,” Darcy supplied, taking a gulp. “Ahh.”

Peter took a careful sip and gagged. His experiences with alcohol stopped at warm beer. He braced himself and took another drink. This one went down much smoother, as did the one after that.

“Not too bad,” he studied the glass intently.

Darcy had already refilled her glass and was rummaging through her fridge. “Foooooooood.”

Peter settled himself onto a chair. “Was this a bad idea?”

“Absolutely. But- fuck yeah!” Darcy stood, a package of cookie dough held high above her head. “But we’re going to do it anyway.”

She dropped the cookie dough onto the table and snagged the bottle from the counter. “Breakfast of champions.”

Peter glanced at the clock above the stove. “It’s four o’clock.”

“Midday snack of champions,” Darcy corrected, stuffing a hunk of dough into her mouth.

Peter drained his second glass. “This gets better, the more you drink.”

Darcy nodded. “You ready for the next step?”

“I guess,” Peter shrugged.

Darcy retrieved a bottle of clear alcohol and a shot glass.

“Vodka?” Peter guessed.

Darcy grinned evilly. “Everclear.”

This meant nothing to Peter, so he accepted the shot glass and downed it, just as he’d seen done in movies. His lungs were on fire and his mouth was bone dry.

            He sputtered and coughed, but managed to keep the alcohol down. “What…was…that?”

            Darcy took her shot, with almost now sputtering. “Grain alcohol.”

            Peter giggled. And kept giggling. Darcy started in, too.

            “Wait, wait, wait! I have an idea!” Darcy picked up her shot glass and slammed it to the ground. “Another!”

            Peter burst out laughing. “What the hell is that?”

            “I saw Thor do it the other day with his coffee cup,” Darcy explained between gasps.

            Peter picked up his shot glass and smashed it against the opposite wall. “A mother! Whoops. My tongue doesn’t work.”

            Darcy raised the bottle. “You can fix that. With more of this! Onwards, Bambi!”

            “Onwards and upwards!” Peter shouted as he stood, knocking his chair over.

           

            “Hey, it’s Wade. You know what to do. If you don’t, you aren’t worth my time. Beeep.”

            “ _Waaaaaaaade! Where aaaaarrrreeee you? I have been WADE-ing a long time. Hehehe. Whooo. Hey, you know what you shou’ try, man? Cookie dough. It is…the greatest shit ever. Like, it’s mind blowin’. Like, like, it blows your mind. Wade! Do you know what wou’ be so fun r’now? FIREWORKS. Fucking boom! Hey, Darce, d’you have any fireworks? ‘Cause we could totally set ‘em off in the living room if we opened a window. Y’don’t? Ah, fuck. Fuckity fuckity fuck. I’m gonna call Wade. He prolly had fireworks. * Beep boop boop beep bap boop beep beep boop * Why isn’t it ringing?! I have failed!”_

            Steve rummaged through his pockets, grabbing his phone and checking the screen. “Hello?”

            “Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve,” Peter slurred. “Alllllccoholllllll.”

            Steve threw a hand up in the air. “Are you drunk?”

            “Hellll yeah!” Peter shouted into the phone.

            “You can’t drink when you’re on pain medication! Where are you, I’m coming to get you right now!” Steve bit his lip.

            Tony turned towards him. “Is that Peter? Did you say he was drunk?”

            “I’m fine, dude!” Peter howled. “Later bitches!”

            The call ended and Steve stared at his phone in horror.

            “What is it? Is he okay?” Tony asked.

            Steve looked up, shocked. “He’s drunk. He said, ‘later bitches’ and hung up on me.”

            Clint doubled over, holding his sides and laughing.

            Steve’s phone rang again, and he answered it quickly. “Peter?”

            “No, it’s Wade. What the hell is wrong with Parker?” he asked carefully.

            Steve sighed. “He’s drunk.”

            Wade paused. “Peter Parker?”

            “Yes,” Steve replied slowly, as if Wade should know this.

            “ _Our_ Peter Parker? Dorky kid with the crazy hair? Teen genius?” Wade clarified.

            “Yes,” Steve repeated.

            Wade was silent for a long moment. “We’re all fucked.”

            “I beg your pardon?” Steve asked.

            “If Parker’s drinking, we are all fucked. That kid is like a saint. No, he drinks even less than a saint. Saints had ale. And wine, and shit. If he’s drinking, the world is ending,” Wade finished dramatically.

            Steve closed his eyes. “Could it be because of the attack?”

            “No,” Wade decided. “He’s gotten in scuffles before. He never drank after those. This must have been something more traumatic.”

            “More traumatic than being beaten in an alley?” Steve said uncertainly.

            Wade sighed. “I guess so. I’ll head over to Darcy’s and see if they’re there. Later.”

            Steve dropped his phone into his pocket and looked at the rest of the group. “Peter is drunk, and Wade says he thinks something traumatic would have had to have happened to him to get him to drink.”

            “Like the attack?” Bruce asked.

            Steve shook his head. “More traumatic than that?”

            “What’s more traumatic for a child than that?” Thor’s eyebrows knit together.

            Clint collapsed on the floor. “Oh, my abs. Oh, dear lord it hurts so good.”

            Natasha kicked him in the side. “Clint, get up. This is serious.”

            “Can’t. Breathe. Too. Funny,” Clint exploded into laughter again.

            Tony glared at him. “This isn’t funny, Barton! Peter could be in danger!”

            Clint waved him away. “Promise…he’s…fine.”

            The rest of them stood around Clint, watching him laugh on the floor. Natasha arched an eyebrow in suspicion. Thor looked confused. Loki and Tony both looked like they wanted to kick Clint, but that was mostly Loki’s default setting. Steve still looked worried, and Bruce seemed a little lost. Clint finally contained himself and lay there, catching his breath.

            “Woooh. That was fun,” he breathed.

            Natasha looked down at him. “You’re crazy.”

            Clint nodded. “I am indeed. Now let’s go eat pancakes.”

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, guys, if you celebrate it. If not, Happy Thursday!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wake up, sunshine!” A voice shouted.  
> Peter flinched and buried his face in the carpet.  
>  “Ah, c’mon now, Parker. Don’t make me get the ice water,” Wade threatened.

“Wake up, sunshine!” A voice shouted.

            Peter flinched and buried his face in the carpet.

            “Ah, c’mon now, Parker. Don’t make me get the ice water,” Wade threatened.

            Peter grumbled and covered his head with his arms. He heard Wade move away and relaxed, hoping he’d leave and let Peter sleep for a year or two. Half a second later, Darcy’s apartment was filled with Norwegian death metal at top volume. Peter let out an inhuman wail and dug his nails into the floor. He lifted his head and glared at Wade, who was leaning against the wall next to the stereo.

            “Hey, you’re awake!” Wade yelled over the music.

            “Turn it off or I will carve out your kidneys with a rusty pitchfork,” Peter growled.

            Wade’s jaw dropped. “Jesus, Parker.” He turned the stereo off. “A little dramatic, aren’t we?”

            Peter got to his feet and wobbled in place, trying to stand up straight. A door on the opposite side of the room opened and Darcy stumbled out in a t-shirt and the smallest pair of panties Peter had ever had the misfortune of seeing. Peter slapped a hand over his eyes.

            “Darce,” he groaned. “Eyes. Ass.”

            Darcy paused and looked down, spilling her messy hair over her face. “When did I buy these?”

            Peter peeked between his fingers. “Pants, Darce.”

            “Shirt, Peter,” Darcy shot back sleepily. “Coffee, Darcy. Morning, Wade.”

            Wade waved. “So I take it two word sentences are all I’m going to get?”

            “Until coffee,” Peter grumbled, looking for his shirt.

            Wade jerked his thumb towards the kitchen. “Coffee’s on the table.”

            Darcy walked up to Wade and threw her arms around him. “Love.”

            “You, too, Darce,” Wade patted her back.

            “Anybody see my shirt?” Peter asked.

            He flipped a couch cushion over and found a remote and an open box of condoms.

            “Oh, dear god,” Peter moaned. “Darcy.”

            Darcy stuck her head in from the kitchen. “What, Bambi?”

            Peter held up the box. “Really?”

            “Keep ‘em. I’ve got plenty,” Darcy shrugged.

            Peter dropped the box back onto the couch and slid the cushion back in place. “Where the hell is my shirt?”

            Wade cleared his throat. Peter turned toward him and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Wade smiled beatifically and arched an eyebrow.

            “Why are you looking at me like that?” Peter demanded.

            Wade shrugged.

            “Wade, I’m too hungover for this,” Peter warned him.

            Wade started whistling the national anthem. Peter stared at him as he started around the room. Wade came to a stop next to the window and forced it open. Peter followed him.

            “Wade, what the hell are you up to?” Peter growled impatiently.

            “Oh, nothing, honey. I just thought you should see the fruits of last night’s escapade,” Wade explained, gesturing outside.

            Peter swallowed hard at the term of endearment and pushed Wade aside to peer out the window. “Oh…fuck.”

            Wade clapped him on the back. “Oh, yes. You did.”

            “Are those my…” Peter pulled at his waistband. “Fuck. How did I get my boxers on the flagpole?”

            Wade chuckled. “I have no idea, but I wish I could’ve seen it. I think you may have tried to fly your shirt first. It was on the ground in front of the building when I came in.”

            Peter swore loudly. Darcy ambled in from the kitchen, looking a little more awake.

            “What’s going on?” she asked.

            Wade grinned. “Peter’s underwear is flying at half mast.”

            Darcy’s mouth fell open. “No fucking way.”  
            “Yes fucking way,” Wade nodded.

            Darcy pushed Peter to the side and leaned out the window. “Wade! Hand me my phone!”

            Peter tried to grab it from Wade, but he was too quick. Darcy took the phone and snapped a picture before falling back into the apartment.

            “Peter’s…fine. Still…alive. Attach picture. Send,” Darcy mumbled as she typed.

            Peter glared at her. “I hate you so much.”

            Darcy took a sip of her coffee. “Hey, I’m awesome. Go drink your coffee and retrieve your clothing. We’ve got work in an hour.”

            Wade straddled the windowsill. “I’ll lower the flag.”

            Peter felt his face heat up and he stomped into the kitchen. He found his phone amid dirty glasses and an empty bottle. He had a couple of missed calls from Steve and Tony, and a text from Clint. All it contained was a picture of a heaping plate of pancakes. Peter deleted the message and picked up one of the coffee cups left on the table. There was a thud in the living room and Wade strolled in, twirling Peter’s boxers on the tip of his index finger. Peter snatched them away quickly, fully aware that he was blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush.

            “Thanks,” Peter muttered grudgingly.

            Wade winked at him. “Hey, no problem, Parker. What are friends for if not for retrieving articles of clothing?”

            Peter took a sip of coffee and seared his bottom lip. He hissed and nearly dropped the coffee cup. “Fuck!”

            Wade pulled open the freezer and grabbed an ice cube. He took the coffee from Peter and pressed the ice against Peter’s lip.

            “Better?” he asked.

            Peter gulped and nodded.

Wade’s lips quirked into a smile. “Good.”

 

“Shield Bakery, how can I help you?” Peter asked, tucking the phone between his chin and his shoulder.

Natasha dropped the appointment book in front of him. He nodded in thanks.

“Child,” Loki greeted him. “Thor has once again left the list of addresses at the bakery. I need them.”

Peter flipped through the book. “Are you ready for them?”

Loki sighed impatiently. Peter rolled his eyes and rattled off the list of addresses twice.

“Thank you, child,” Loki said, disconnecting.

Peter put down the phone and returned the book to the shelf.

“Thor forgot the addresses again?” Natasha asked, arranging a tray of cupcakes in the case.

“Apparently so,” Peter nodded and pulled the list of accounts Tony had given to him closer.

Natasha closed the case and wiped her hands on her apron. “What are you working on?”

“Tony gave me the account for that music festival we’re working next weekend. He wants me to come up with an estimate of how many of each thing we need to bring, along with an outline of what we should bring, and a schedule of who should be making what when,” Peter explained.

Natasha smiled. “What have you got so far?”

Peter grimaced. “A splitting headache and some doodles.”

Natasha laughed and gestured for him to stay put before disappearing into the kitchen. Peter turned back to his work and let his mind go numb. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and felt his cheeks heat up at the memory of Wade holding the ice to his burn this morning. Peter’s mind wandered toward thoughts of his friend, and when Natasha returned, he was staring off into space with a smile on his lips.

Natasha set a mug in front of him. “Drink up. You’ll feel better.”

Peter peered into the mug. “What is it?”

“An old Russian remedy for hangovers,” Natasha answered.

There was a bark of laughter from Clint’s balcony. “Just don’t ask what’s in it.”

Peter took the smallest sip possible. It wasn’t that terrible, though he honestly couldn’t taste much.

Natasha shook her head. “No, no. Down in one gulp. Plug your nose and close your eyes or you’ll start tearing up.”

Peter looked between the mug and Natasha nervously. Clint had moved to the rail to watch him. Peter slowly plugged his nose and lifted the mug to his lips. He tipped his head back and swallowed the cold liquid. As soon as it hit the back of his throat, his gag reflex kicked in and it took all of his control not to spew.

Clint laughed and clapped his hands together. “Bravo, kid. You kept it down. That’s better than most first timers.”

Natasha smirked. “Yeah. Clint spit his first one all over himself.”

Clint glowered. “Okay, let’s not use me as an example anymore.”

“What…was…that,” Peter coughed.

“It’s called ‘sick head’,” Natasha explained. “Coat a glass in vegetable oil. Add one egg, a pinch of salt, some red pepper, a little black pepper, and two teaspoons of cold vodka. It’ll cure even the worst of hangovers.”

Peter blanched. “That was disgusting.”

Natasha nodded. “True, but you feel better already, don’t you?”

“I guess,” Peter admitted.

Darcy pushed open the kitchen door with her back. She had a cake in each hand. Steve followed her, with a huge cake covered in white buttercream.

“Clint, this wedding cake needs to be delivered in an hour. Please tell me you’ve made the sugar flowers,” Steve begged.

Clint rolled his eyes and held up an open plastic container. “They’re right here. I’m stealing Darcy and Peter to help me with the delivery and the set up.”

Steve nodded, and turned to Peter. “Do you think you’re up for it?”

“Yeah, my ribs are fine,” Peter patted his side.

Steve hesitated. “Don’t overexert yourself. And before you go, we need to talk.”

Peter squelched a groan. “We should get going, Steve. We don’t want to be late.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” Steve waved Peter into Tony’s office.

Tony glanced up from his phone when they entered. “Hey, kiddo. How’s it going?”

Peter shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. Tony looked at Steve.

“Sit,” Steve ordered.

Peter sank down onto the chair in front of the desk. “What’s this about?”

Steve crossed his arms. “This about the fact that you’re sixteen and you got drunk with Darcy last night.”

Tony sat up straighter. “Ohhh, that’s what this is about. Now I get it.”

“I don’t,” Peter said. “Why am I here?”

Steve dropped his hands to his hips. “You’re here because we’re worried. You were hurt, and the next night, you get wasted. You’re a teenager. It’s illegal for you to drink. Not to mention, you’re on painkillers. That could kill you!”

“I didn’t take any pills last night!” Peter insisted.

Steve shook his head. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but that doesn’t make it any better. You still got drunk. You still broke the law.”

“What, are you going to have me arrested?” Peter’s voice rose.

“Hang on,” Tony said, holding up his hand. “No one’s getting arrested. Both of you need to calm down and we’ll talk rationally.”

“I’m being perfectly rational, Tony,” Steve sighed. “Peter just doesn’t want to listen.”

Peter stood up. “Excuse me? Why are you doing this? Any of this? I appreciate the concern for my well being, and I appreciate the job you’ve given me, but you are not my parents!”

“No, your parents are dead, and you’re all alone,” Steve yelled back.

Peter froze.

“Shit,” Tony whispered, covering his face.

Steve’s face paled. “Peter, I’m sorry. That’s not-“

“Yeah, whatever,” Peter muttered.

He ripped the door open and stomped out, brushing past Natasha and all but kicking open the front door. Through the windows, they could see him rush past Darcy and Clint, who were loading up the van. Clint called out to him, but Peter never slowed. Darcy and Clint exchanged a look. Clint glanced back at the bakery. Darcy said something to Clint and jogged after Peter. Steve walked out to the front window to watch them. Darcy caught up to Peter on the corner. She grabbed his shoulder. Peter pulled away and whirled around. His face was angry and hurt. Steve could see his mouth moving. Darcy flinched, and Steve knew Peter was shouting at her. Peter turned away, but Darcy grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. Peter sank into her embrace, and Steve felt a sharp pang in his chest. He turned away from the window and walked into the kitchen. A minute later, Bruce was pushed through the door, and Steve locked himself in the kitchen.

 

 

            


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere between midnight and daybreak, Peter heard a knock on his door. He ignored it, pulling his comforter over his head and covering his ears. The knocking persisted for a solid twenty minutes before they gave up. Peter relaxed and was slowly drifting off when his window was flung open and someone tumbled in.

For the next three days, Peter hid in his dorm room on campus. Darcy rarely ever wandered into the residential halls, and Peter was pretty sure Wade didn’t even know their campus had dorms. His roommate had transferred out the week after school began, so Peter had the room all to himself. His phone was shoved in the back of a desk drawer and he avoided his email account. He only ventured out for class and the grocery run he had to make when he discovered that all he had in his mini fridge was a bag of celery. As long as he kept his headphones in, no one tried to talk to him as he walked across the campus. Besides the grocery run, he only left campus once, to go to his check up. The doctor had been shocked at his recovery. He gave him the all clear and let him go. To celebrate, Peter flopped face down on his bed and fell asleep.

            Somewhere between midnight and daybreak, Peter heard a knock on his door. He ignored it, pulling his comforter over his head and covering his ears. The knocking persisted for a solid twenty minutes before they gave up. Peter relaxed and was slowly drifting off when his window was flung open and someone tumbled in. Peter sat straight up, his mouth wide open. The person stumbled to their feet and turned the light on.

            “Hey, punk,” Clint waved.

            Peter sighed and dropped back onto the bed. “Go away.”

            “Yeah, not going to happen,” Clint returned to the window and leaned out.

            “How the hell did you even get up here?” Peter asked. “I’m on the fourth floor.”

            Clint shrugged. “I have my ways.”

            He stepped back from the window and an arm appeared, wrapping around the sill. There was a grunt and Darcy somersaulted onto the floor with a loud curse. Clint helped her to her feet before shutting the window.

            Peter stared at them. “You are both crazy. Get out.”

            “Fuck you,” Darcy punched him in the shoulder.

            “What?” Peter sat up.

            Darcy pushed him, her eyes flashing. “I said, fuck you. We’ve been friends for a fucking lifetime and you disappear for days without telling me where you’re going or if you’re okay? Do you know how fucking worried I was? For all I knew, you could’ve been murdered and left in a ditch in Iowa! You won’t answer your damn phone, you won’t respond to any emails, and you won’t talk to me. What the fuck?”

            Peter pushed her away and stood. “It wasn’t your business, Darcy. You aren’t responsible for me. Stop acting like I owe it to you.”

            Darcy stared at him, and Peter could see the fury boiling behind her eyes. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Darcy shook her head.

            “I can’t believe you, you ass!” she yelled.

            Peter reached a hand out to touch her shoulder and she knocked it away. Her eyes were brimming with tears. She swiped a hand across her face.

            “You want to be left alone?” Darcy shouted. “Too goddamn bad! I know you’re pissed. Steve shouldn’t have said that. I know that, he knows it, too. He feels terrible about it. But you were being a prick, Peter. They were worried about you, and instead of you listening to what they were trying to tell you, you pushed them away. And Steve snapped. So stop fucking wallowing in your own goddamn sorrow before I kick your scrawny ass!”

            Darcy punctuated the last sentence with a sharp shove to Peter’s chest. Peter sat down hard on the edge of the bed.

Darcy took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “If you’re ready to act like a mature human being, you can come with me voluntarily. If not, I’ll push you out the window and drag your body to the car. Your choice.”

Peter glanced at Clint, who looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

 

 

“Go,” Darcy ordered.

Peter shot her a look. “No way in hell.”

“GO,” Darcy repeated, shoving Peter.

Peter took a deep breath and shuffled into the bakery with his head down.

“Dead man walking,” Clint muttered behind him.

Darcy jabbed him in the side. “Shut up, Clint.”

Peter kept his eyes fixed on his feet and stopped walking a few steps into the bakery. Darcy kept walking, but Clint paused next to him.

“Hey,” Clint waited for Peter to look up. “Relax, kid. Darcy’s the most upset. Everyone else is just worried. You’ll be fine.”

Peter nodded once and lifted his head enough to look around. Natasha waved from behind the counter, bent over the appointment book. Darcy pushed through the kitchen door and let it swing shut behind her. Clint clambered up his ladder and left Peter by himself. Peter slowly made his way towards the counter, feeling incredibly awkward.

Natasha smiled. “Good to see you again, Peter.”

“Thanks. You, too,” Peter returned her smile.

Natasha rummaged around under the counter and came up with an apron. “Feel like pitching in?”

Peter took the apron and tied it around his waist. He walked behind the counter and started loading the trays on the counter into the case. He fell into his rhythm. This was familiar territory for him. He was comfortable.

The door burst open like it had been kicked in. Steve rushed out and froze when he caught sight of Peter behind the counter. Peter straightened up slowly and lifted his hand in greeting. Steve repeated the gesture and took a step closer.

“Hey, Peter. How are you?” Steve’s voice was soft and low.

Peter looked away. “Kind of embarrassed, actually. I…I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I’m sorry, Steve. It was immature and-oof!”

Steve grabbed Peter in a bear hug. “No, no! It was a completely rational reaction. What I said was out of line. I’m so sorry, Peter.”

“It’s okay, Steve, really,” Peter assured him. “But, um, I can’t really…breathe right now.”  
            Steve let him go and stepped back. Tony’s office door opened and he stepped out with a grin on his face.

“Hey! I thought I heard you. You’re back?” Tony asked anxiously.

Peter nodded. “Yeah. If you guys still want to put up with me.”

Tony slung an arm around his shoulder. “Always, kiddo. Hey, while you were gone, I had an idea.”

“Yeah?” Peter looked at him uncertainly.

Tony laughed. “Relax. I was thinking you could stay in out guest room if you wanted. That way you’ll be closer to the bakery. And you won’t have to worry about college kids interrupting your studying.”

“No, he’ll just have to worry about Clint coming over,” Natasha said from the counter.

Clint squawked from the balcony.

“Wow, uh, yeah. That would be cool. Thanks,” Peter smiled.

Tony thrust his fist in the air. “Fuck yes! New roommate! I’m really glad you said yes, because I already sent people to clear out your dorm room.”

Steve shook his head. “You are ridiculous.”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” Tony waggled his eyebrows.

 

The morning of the music festival, Peter woke up in his new room, sprawled across the bed. He stretched and rolled off the bed, catching himself on his hands. He stood sleepily and rubbed his eyes, grabbing blindly at the shirt thrown over the back of the armchair. He tugged it over his head and stumbled into the hall. Yawning, he walked down the hall, his feet padding lightly against the wood floor. Steve and Tony’s bedroom door was still closed, but Peter could hear the hum of their voices. He paused at the door and Tony’s voice carried out to him.

“ _Hey Mr. Business Man, this one likes to please,”_ he sang loudly. “ _With a special service in the French qualities_.”

Steve groaned. “Tony, no. We agreed, no more classic rock during-“

 _“But she won’t sacrifice what you want tonight! She won’t come across unless there’s money in her hand and she’s calling all the shots!”_ Tony sang over Steve’s voice.

Peter shook his head fondly and continued on his way downstairs.

 

A couple of hours later, Tony whipped the car into a space in front of the bakery.

“Okay, team, we’ve got an hour to pack everything up and get on the road. Peter, you grab Darcy and start folding boxes. Got it?” Tony asked, holding the bakery door open.

Peter saluted. “Got it.”

Darcy looked up from her coffee mug. “Hey, Bambi! Are you ready to fold some boxes?”

“Show me the way,” Peter nodded.

Darcy handed him a stack of cardboard and started in on her first box. “So how’s it going, living with them?”

Peter shrugged. “Pretty good. I like it. Steve’s an awesome cook. Tony insists on reading all of my coursework to make sure the professor is teaching it correctly. He also sings a lot. Mostly classic rock.”

“Really?” Darcy asked. “At least he doesn’t hum. My last roommate hummed constantly. After a week I wanted to stab her. Too bad you don’t know the songs he’s singing.”

Peter sat up, insulted. “Hey, I listen to classic rock. He was singing AC/DC this morning.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows in a challenge. “Oh, yeah? What song?”

Clint wandered in behind her, a stack of fliers in his arms. “What are you two fighting about this time?”

Peter ignored him. “‘Got You By The Balls!’”

“Whoa!” Clint stopped walking. “What the hell?”

Darcy grinned. “Nice choice, Stark.”

Clint waved his arms around. “What are you talking about?”

“Peter heard Tony singing AC/DC this morning,” Darcy finally explained.

Clint burst out laughing, sending the papers everywhere. He was laughing so hard that Peter could see tears forming in his eyes.

Darcy stared at him. “Why are you laughing?”

“Do you…Do you know what it…means…when Tony…sings that?” Clint gasped out.

“Obviously not,” Peter sighed.

“It…means…they’re…fucking,” Clint collapsed to the ground and clutched his sides. “Oh my god! You’re…so…innocent.”

Darcy slapped a hand over her mouth. “Holy shit! That’s perfect!”

Peter stared at them, his jaw hanging wide open. “What? How do you know that?”

Clint sat up, wiping his eyes. “I lived with them for a while when I first moved into the city. Swear to god I walked in on them once a week. Tony sings classic rock during sex to piss Steve off, but apparently he does it for fun now. Hey, listen Peter. If you hear anything that sounds vaguely like Pink Floyd or Led Zepplin, _run_.”

Darcy dissolved into giggles. “That is too perfect.”

The door to the kitchen opened and a few strains of the radio drifted through.

“ _She can play the school girl and spank you all you please-“_

“Oh, shit,” Peter buried his face in his hands.

 

“Hey, Parker!”

Peter looked up at the sound of Wade’s voice. He was working the bakery booth with Darcy and Bruce while everyone else worked the crowd. Peter handed a teenager only a year or two younger than him their change and turned to Wade.

“Hey. What’s up?” Peter asked casually.

Wade’s eyes widened at the display of cupcakes. “Oh my god, food.”

Peter laughed. “Nice to see you, too.”

Wade made a face at him and handed him some cash. Peter took it and gestured towards the tower of cupcakes. Wade grabbed a strawberry shortcake one and bit into it, smearing frosting all over his lips. Wade licked his thumb and looked around.

“Bet you guys are making a killing today,” he said.

Peter shrugged. “We’ve been pretty busy, yeah.”

Wade finished off his cupcake and brushed off his hands. “So what time do you get off?”

“Five, I think,” Peter replied, passing change to another customer. “Why?”

Wade looked away. “Well, you know, there’s that movie you were talking about last week. That one with the spiders? I thought we could go see that and hang out.”

Peter’s heartlept in his chest. “Yes! That sounds awesome. We should do that. Definitely. Absolutely. I like that plan. It’s a good-“

“Peter,” Wade cut in. “You’re rambling.”

Peter flushed. “Right.”

“I’ll meet you at the bakery at six, Parker,” Wade grinned.

Peter watched him go before turning back to his job. Darcy was staring at him.

“What?” Peter ducked his head.

“Get some, Bambi!” Darcy shrieked in delight. “I am so proud of you! I taught you so well! I take all credit. When you guys get married, I expect to be your maid of honor!”

“Darcy…” Peter shook his head.

Darcy shushed him. “Maid of honor!”

 

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy wrinkled her nose. “Peter. This is your first date. You need me.”

“Breathe, Bambi. You’ll be fine,” Darcy insisted, swatting Peter across the back of the head.

            “I’ll be fine when you stop playing dress up with me,” Peter growled. “I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself, Darcy. I’ve done it for a while.

            Darcy wrinkled her nose. “Peter. This is your first date. You need me.”  
            “Yes, well, you do date a lot more than I do,” Peter smirked.

            “Uh oh,” Clint muttered from the corner.

            “Did you just call me a whore, pretty boy?” Darcy squawked. “I will tase you, Bambi! Don’t test me!”

            Peter held up his hands in surrender. Darcy thrust a black sweater at him and commanded him to put it on. Peter let out a weary sigh and slipped behind the sheet Clint had hung from the bottom of the balcony. On the other side of the makeshift curtain, Peter heard a door swing open.

            “What’s going on?” Tony asked, his voice curious.

            “Fashion show,” Clint explained.

            Tony made a choking noise that Peter was pretty sure was a laugh. He stepped out in the sweater, shoulders slumped and a grimace on his face. To his utter horror, it seemed that everyone had decided to gather around the counter in his absence.

            Darcy’s jaw dropped a little. “God. Damn.”

            Natasha nodded, her lips quirking up at the corners.

            “Oh, Peter, you look so handsome!” Steve cooed.

            Peter felt a flush creeping up his face. He ducked his head and scratched behind his ears.

            “Hey, Bambi!” Darcy whistled. “Stop blushing and go put those other jeans on. The tighter ones.”

            Peter did as he was told, feeling his cheeks burn. He buttoned the jeans and, before he could even step back out, Darcy was thrusting a pair of shoes around the curtain.

            “Put them on,” she instructed, yanking the curtain down.

            Peter knelt to slip them on and tie the laces. “I don’t know why you’re doing all of this. I’m just going to hang out with Wade. It’s not a big deal.”

            Darcy scoffed.

            “Bullshit,” Clint coughed into his fist.

            “Seriously!” Peter stood. “We’re just seeing a movie. We do that all the time.”

            “And having dinner,” Darcy added.

            Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah a burger and a beer from Mike’s, which is what we do at least once a week.”

            “Beer?” Steve’s ears perked up visibly.

            Darcy flapped her hands desperately. “But you weren’t dating then! Now that you are, it’s like your usual date spot! God, that’s so cute. I’ve never had a usual date spot. Well…no, I guess the backseat of my car doesn’t really count.”

            There was a crash and they all turned to stare at Clint, who had tripped and smacked his head on the display case.

            “Sorry. Mental image,” Clint winced.

            Darcy shot him the look of death. “What is this, ‘Darcy’s A Whore Day’ or something? First Peter, now you! Anybody else want to make a comment? Tony, you want to take a shot? Thor? No? How about you, Bruce? Come on, everybody’s doing it!”  
            The bakery went deathly silent. Clint’s face went slack. Peter reached out to touch her shoulder, but his hand hovered about it, unsure of what her reaction would be. Loki was next to her in the blink of an eye. He took her elbow and swept her outside into the autumn air. The occupants of the bakery watched their exit, their faces in different stages of shock.

            “What just happened?” Clint whispered.

            They all seemed to be looking at Peter for the answer.

            He swallowed past a lump in his throat. “I don’t know. She’s never…I’ve never…I don’t know.”

            Natasha had an odd look on her face. “I’m going to check on her.”

            She patted Peter’s shoulder on her way out and waited for the door to close completely before joining Darcy and Loki on the bench in front of the bakery.

            “I should make an apology cake,” Clint murmured.

            Tony looked at him in disbelief. “Are you shitting me? You’re going to need a lot more than a cake, genius.”

            A horn honked outside and Peter felt his chest tighten. “The car that honked. What does it look like?”

            Tony craned his neck. “Bright red. White racing stripes.”

            Peter swore and ran a hand through his hair, looking around feverishly for his wallet. Steve handed it to him, smiling at the boy’s frantic movements. Peter called out a goodbye as he stumbled out the door. Outside, Wade spoke to Darcy through the open window, his forehead wrinkled in concern. Peter stooped to sling an arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly peck on the temple. She wiped at her eyes and pushed him away playfully. Peter slid into the car, giving a final wave before Wade beeped the horn and pulled into traffic. Steve stood staring out the front window, his eyes on the red car.

            Tony walked up behind him, sliding his arms around Steve’s waist. “Our little boy’s growing up.”

            Steve covered Tony’s hands with his own. “Getting sentimental already, old man?”

            Tony gasped. “Bite your tongue!”

 

            “What happened to Darcy?” Wade asked, stopping for a light.

            Peter shrugged. “I’m not sure. Clint made a sex joke and she lost it.”

            Wade glanced at him, confused. “Everything Clint says is a sex joke. She’s usually the first one to come back with an even more provocative answer. Why’d she freak out this time?”

            “Hmm,” Peter bit his lip. “I’m going to go see her in the morning, and figure out what’s going on.”

            Wade nodded. “Good plan. Now let’s go check out this movie, shall we?”

            Wade insisted on paying for Peter’s ticket, even after Peter told him he got a discount because the owner was a friend of Tony’s.

            “You’ll get it next time,” Wade brushed him off. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a real jonesing for some Skittles. You’re more of a Twizzler guy, aren’t you?”

            Peter nodded, shocked that Wade paid attention to his candy preferences. Wade led him into the theater and stopped at the door.

            “Do you want the top?” Wade asked.

            Peter choked. “Wh-what?”  
            “The seats,” Wade elaborated with a knowing grin.

            Peter flushed. “Top works.”

            Wade snagged two seats in the dead center of the very last row. Peter knew from Darcy that this was considered prime make out real estate. Peter sat on his hands to hide their fidgeting. A few previews in, he felt the tension leaving his shoulders. That lasted all of five minutes, until Wade’s arm found its way across the back of Peter’s seat. Peter felt his eyes widen and forced himself to take a deep breath. He blew it out a lot louder than he meant to, drawing Wade’s attention.

            “You okay?” Wade mouthed.

            Peter nodded, turning his attention back to the screen. It only took a couple of scenes for him to fall back into the lull he was used to with Wade. An hour and a half later, the lights lifted and Wade followed Peter down the stairs, his hands in his pockets. Wade kept up the light chatter until they got out to the car. Peter opened the door, but Wade’s voice stopped him.

            “What’s wrong?” Wade asked.

            Peter looked up as Wade leaned his chin against the roof of the car. “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

            Wade stared at Peter, watching him closely. Peter shifted awkwardly.

            “You ready to get some pizza? There’s a new place just off campus,” Wade spoke finally.

            “Yeah! Let’s go,” Peter smiled, ducking into the car.

            Over pizza and beer- the waitress never even asked for Wade’s ID- the boys returned to their usual state of laughing and screwing around with each other. They didn’t realize how much time had passed until their waitress cleared her throat dramatically and gestured around the empty room. Wade dropped a few bills on the table and stood. He stretched his arms above his head, his shirt lifting a few inches to reveal his abs. Both Peter and the waitress licked their lips. Wade caught Peter’s eye and winked. Peter scrambled to his feet.

            The waitress took her chance, leaning to shove her cleavage in Wade’s face. “How about buying me a drink, honey?”

            Peter held his breath, his eyes glued to the front window of the restaurant. Wade’s gaze flickered between him and the waitress.

            Wade reached around her and yanked Peter to his side. “Actually I should stay with my date. We should be getting home soon.”

            Peter and the waitress wore the same look of utter shock as Wade dragged Peter out of there and shoved him in the car. As soon as they were out of the parking lot, Peter doubled over with laughter, his forehead resting against the dash. Wade glanced at him from the corner of his eye and chuckled.

            “Oh my god!” Peter wheezed. “The look…on her face…when you told her…I was your date!”

            “It looked exactly like your face when I said you were my date,” Wade teased softly.

            Peter’s laughter died off slowly and he gazed across the front seat. “Am I? Your date?”

            Wade pulled the car to the curb before turning to look Peter in the eye. “Of course. You didn’t know?”

            Peter could feel the goofy grin spreading across his face, but he didn’t care. Wade leaned across the space that separated them, his lips an inch from Peter’s ear.

            “Your guard dogs are watching us,” he whispered.

            Peter’s spine straightened involuntarily and he jerked around. Surprisingly, they were parked in front of the house. Sure enough, he could make out Tony’s face in the small window above the kitchen sink and Thor and Clint were standing at the bay window in the living room, staring out unabashed.

            Peter sighed. “I’m afraid if I don’t go in, they’ll get in the car with us.”

            Wade laughed. “Go then. I’ll see you later. And don’t forget to check on Darcy tomorrow.”

            Peter stepped out into the night and waved to Wade. He idled until he was sure Peter was inside, then gave the horn a short honk and drove off. Peter shut the door and dropped his forehead to the wooden door. He heard a shuffle, then someone coughed. Peter turned and Tony stared at him expectantly, Steve standing over his right shoulder. Behind them, he could see Natasha blocking in the doorway to the living room, blocking Thor and Clint from storming into the hall.

            “Hey,” Peter waved casually. “How’s it going?”

            Tony raised his eyebrows. “You tell us. How’d it go with Wade?”

            Peter shrugged. “It was okay. The movie was decent. We found a new pizza place. Wade shocked the hell out of out waitress, so that was fun.”

            “Do I smell beer?” Steve asked suspiciously.

            “Seriously?” Peter’s mouth gaped open. “You’re all the way over there. What do you have a bionic nose?”

            “Were you drinking?” Steve continued, ignoring the ‘bionic nose’ comment.

            Peter’s shoulders wilted. “It was one beer. I could still drive with that level of alcohol.”

            Steve opened his mouth, but Tony cut him off with a hand to his arm. “Go on up to bed, Peter. We’re glad you had fun.”

           

            Clint and Natasha showed up next to last the following morning. Natasha made them run an extra half mile before she permitted them to stop and do their morning shots. Clint took one shot when he stumbled in the door, another after his shower, and his third on their way out the door. Natasha poured her three into a mug and downed it like it was water as soon as they got home. Natasha’s alcohol tolerance was leagues above Clint’s, who wasn’t exactly a lightweight, so she usually drove them to work. She delivered Clint to the base of the ladder and joined Darcy at the counter, where she was folding boxes and going through the list of the day’s deliveries. Natasha started filling the boxes and chatting. They laughed about something and Clint groaned as he hauled himself up the ladder and onto the balcony. He stood up, wobbling for a second and stretching, turning towards his work table.

            Perched on his stool and staring over the ledge expectantly was Wade. His gaze shifted slightly to Clint and he lifted his hand in a wave.

            Clint stared at him. “I am way too drunk for this.”

            Wade reached behind him, producing a cup of coffee from the café down the street. He offered it to Clint without speaking.

            Clint took it carefully and sipped. “Okay. You can stay. No drooling and if you eat a cupcake, you have to pretend it fell on the floor or Natasha will glare at you from the counter. Trust me, it’ll burn your shoulders all day. Hit the radio, will you?”

            Wade reached over and turned on the radio, his eyes still on the bakery below. 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce’s lips quirked up in one corner. “You appear to be in a good mood. I take it last night went well?”
> 
> “What, you mean Steve and Tony haven’t been gossiping about it all morning?” Peter teased.
> 
> “No, but I have!” Clint sang from the balcony.

The next morning, Peter strolled into work juggling two trays of coffee cups from the little place down the street. Bruce rushed over to help him out, carefully taking the tray off of the top and balancing the second tray in Peter’s hands.

            “Thanks, Bruce,” Peter smiled.

            Bruce’s lips quirked up in one corner. “You appear to be in a good mood. I take it last night went well?”

            “What, you mean Steve and Tony haven’t been gossiping about it all morning?” Peter teased.

            “No, but I have!” Clint sang from the balcony.

            Peter grimaced. “I brought coffee. Do you want some?”

            “No! Stay out!” Clint yelled quickly.

            Peter and Bruce glanced at each other.

            “Clint, what are you up to?” Bruce called suspiciously.

            “Nothing!” Clint’s head appeared over the edge of the balcony. “Nothing. I just already have coffee and I don’t want the kid coming up here and telling me all about his date. I don’t need that sappy shit when I’m trying to shape gumpaste into pretty pink flowers.”

            Peter leaned over and opened the door to the dumbwaiter. “Okay, well I’m just gonna send a cup up in case you change your mind, crazy.”

            Clint narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you judge me, Parker. I will blare classic rock all day long and chuck cold pancakes at you from the balcony.”

            Peter rolled his eyes and heard Clint yank the curtain back in place above him. Bruce chuckled and moved to the counter to drop off the coffee cups. Natasha scooped one out of the container and thanked Peter. Bruce snagged one for himself and one for Steve before disappearing into the kitchen. Peter dropped a cup off for Tony and returned to the counter.

            “Hey, have you heard from Darcy?” Peter asked anxiously.

            Natasha nodded. “She was here this morning. She went with Thor and Loki to help with the deliveries. They agreed to drop her off in a few hours to help with the rush.”

            “How is she?” He prodded. “Did she seem okay? Is she still upset?”

            Natasha held up a hand to stop his babbling. “She’s fine, Peter. You should still apologize, but she’s okay.”

            Peter gave a sigh of relief. “Good.”

            Steve stuck his head around the doorframe leading to the kitchen. “Morning, Peter! Thanks for the coffee.”

            Peter gave a small salute. “No problem.”

            “What are your plans today?” Steve shifted slightly, the steam from the coffee swirling around his face.”

            The teenager shrugged. “I don’t know. I have to turn in an essay for one of my classes by tomorrow night. I finished it a couple of days ago, so I thought I’d swing by campus and drop it off after work.”

            Natasha looked up from her notebook. “I can drive you, if you’d like. I need to drop off my reports to Fury. Your probation period ends at the end of the week, and he needs our decision on whether or not we’re keeping you and Darcy.”

            “Are you?” Peter blurted. “Keeping us, I mean.”

            Natasha shot him a disbelieving look. “Do you really have to ask? It’s been two weeks, and you guys are like family. Of course you’re staying. Now, do you want a ride tonight, or not?”

            “Yes, please,” Peter answered quickly.

            Natasha passed him the notebook. “This is the book we use for holiday orders. It’s October. In a couple of weeks, we’ll start getting orders for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Every order not being picked up within a nine days of placing the order goes in this notebook. Each order gets its own page. The delivery date goes on the top right in very large red letters. The rest of the order goes along with how we record every order. At the end of every day, I input the orders from the book in the computer and save them in two different folders. These orders are responsible for probably half of our annual income. It is _vital_ that they not get fucked up. Got it?”

            Peter nodded reverently. “Yes, ma’am.”

            “Good. Now go help Steve and Bruce with the cupcakes until Darcy gets back,” Natasha ordered, holding back a smile.

           

            “So, why exactly are you spying on Peter like a serial killer?” Clint asked.

            Wade glanced at him, arching an eyebrow.

            Clint held up his hands defensively. “I’m not judging, I’m just asking.”

            Wade shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea. I never get to see him anymore, now that he isn’t staying on campus.”

            “I thought you lived off campus?” Clint remembered Loki mentioning it.

            “I do,” Wade explained. “But we…ran into each other a lot.”

            Clint squinted his eyes. “You made that sound a lot like, ‘I plan random meetings that he never suspects are planned so I can admire his face without being creepy.’”

            Wade stared at him. “I do not admire his face. We…talk. Hang out. Go places. I don’t just stare at him. That would be creepy.”

            “And this isn’t?” Clint gestured at Wade, who was watching Peter’s exchange with Natasha.

            “This is me checking in,” Wade said firmly. “Making sure everything’s okay.”

            Clint grunted. “All right. As long as you’re here, you wanna help me decorate cupcakes?”

            Wade hesitated. “Can I use the sparkly shit?”

            “Absofuckinglutely, my friend,” Clint passed him the luster dust.

 

            Thor, Darcy, and Loki arrived a little after noon. They were arguing.

            “Thor! Cut it out! I’m serious! It’s none of your business!” Darcy begged.

            Loki’s lips twitched in amusement.

            Thor laughed heartily. “Dear Darcy, you are like a daughter or a sister! Of course it is my business. I wish to meet the young man, that is all.”

            Darcy buried her face in her hands. “No! You aren’t meeting him. Peter hasn’t even met him, and Peter’s my best friend.”

            “Good to hear that again,” Peter spoke up from behind the counter.

            Darcy shot him a smile before turning to Natasha. “Please, for the love of god, get them off my back.”

            “What’s going on?” Natasha inquired curiously.

            “Dearest Darcy has a suitor,” Thor explained.

            Natasha looked proud. “Yeah? Good for you, Darcy.”

            “Yeah, but these two won’t stop pestering me to bring him to the bakery!” Darcy explained, frustrated.

            Natasha turned towards Thor and Loki. “Leave her alone. If she wants that to be private, respect that. A bit of advice for you, Darcy. Don’t tell them you’ve met someone or everyone will go on a manhunt for the poor guy. Keeping quiet has always worked best for me.”

            Darcy scoffed. “Oh, please! We all know about you and Clint.”

            Natasha laughed. “Ah, see? You _think_ Clint and I are a couple, which keeps you from bothering either of us about who we’re seeing. Misdirection. Clint and I are roommates, who used to have a thing. Now, we’re roommates and very close friends. Only Clint and Steve have met the person I’m involved with. Clint out of necessity, and Steve by accident.”

            Loki slouched over the counter. “You’ve been dating again?”

            Natasha smirked. “I have.”

            “Go, Nat!” Darcy whooped. “But seriously, it isn’t Clint?”

            “Nope. Hasn’t been in years,” Natasha assured her. “Now, let’s stop gossiping and get to work. Thor, Loki, there are a dozen deliveries waiting in the kitchen for you. Darcy, I need you to go up with Clint and help him decorate cupcakes. Peter, you can help me go to the warehouse to pick up supplies. Let’s go, people. Get to work.”

            Natasha pulled her keys out of her pocket and grabbed Peter, pulling him along until they got outside. Peter ducked out of her grasp and slipped into the car. Natasha paused at her door, an affectionate smile decorating her lips, before joining him in the car.

            Back inside, Darcy left the brothers and climbed the ladder to Clint’s balcony. A few wrungs from the top, she heard Clint talking with someone. From the voice, she could tell it was another guy, and it sounded vaguely familiar. Darcy pulled herself up and ripped open the curtain.

            “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Darcy yelped.

            Both guys froze. Clint’s was reaching for the industrial size bucket of gumpaste and Wade’s hand held a slim brush coated in hot pink edible glitter. Wade recovered first.

            “Hey, Darcy. You look nice this morning,” he grinned sheepishly.

            Darcy put her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing here? They didn’t hire you, did they?”

            “Are you kidding me? I hate working,” Wade scrunched his face.

            Darcy glanced around the workspace. “Then…why are you here.”

            “He’s here because he’s hot for Peter,” Clint explained simply.

            Wade glared at him.

            Darcy barked out a laugh. “Oh, I get it now! You’re stalking your boyfriend.”

            Wade slammed the brush down. “Will you be quiet! He’s going to hear you!”

            “Relax, Wilson,” Darcy pushed his shoulder playfully. “He’s gone on a supply run.”

            Wade retrieved the brush. “Good, because I’m not done with my fairy princess cupcakes.”

            Darcy pulled up another stool and picked up one of the undecorated cupcakes. “Are you and Peter going out again tonight?”

            “I don’t know,” Wade shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe tomorrow. We haven’t talked yet.”

            Darcy gave him a long suffering look and dusted her cupcake with colored sugar. “Will you two just hook up and get married already? You’re ridiculous.”

            “Listen, Lewis, you don’t get to judge my relationship skills. You avoid dating like the plague,” Wade pointed out.

            Clint watched the two of them bicker, his eyes flicking back and forth between them.

            “Commitment freaks me out, okay?” Darcy said defensively.

            Wade looked up. “Darcy, dating isn’t a commitment. It’s…it’s ‘hey I like you and you like me so we should hang out even more than we already do and maybe do some things that friends don’t because I find you attractive and if it doesn’t work out at least we had fun.’ That isn’t committing to anything.”

            “Is that Webster’s definition?” Darcy sneered. “It doesn’t matter. You can stop lecturing, because I’m dating.”

            “What?” Wade yelled.

            “Who?” Clint demanded at the same time.

            Darcy raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Not the reaction I was hoping for or expecting. I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘hey, that’s great, good for you!’”

            “Hey, that’s great! Good for you! _Who?_ ” Clint demanded.

            Darcy smiled evilly. “Don’t worry your little head over it. You’ll meet him at the wedding.”

            Wade laughed loudly and Darcy winked at him.

            Clint furrowed his brow. “Okay, see, normally that would be creepy, and Wade laughed.”

            “He laughed because he knows my opinion of marriage,” Darcy explained.

            Wade’s eyes lost focus, remembering. “Yeah…Drunk Darcy tells all.”

            “What, you don’t believe in marriage?” Clint asked, surprised.

            “ _Hell_ no! I will never get married. I’ve seen first hand what marriage can turn into. It can turn into a prison, a trap, a chain wrapped so tightly around your throat that you’re gasping for air. I’ve seen people ruin their own lives trying to save one relationship. I’ve seen women abuse themselves in the hopes that it will land them a husband. And I’ve seen those husbands get in their cars, wave good bye to their wives, and drive a few blocks over to see their mistresses. My best friend growing up watched her parents go through a divorce so rough that it left her father with a third of his liver, and her mother with an addiction to pain pills. Last time she bothered to call me, she was so drunk I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. A few weeks later, I found out she’d been arrested and forced to go into rehab for alcoholism. So, no, Barton, I don’t put a lot of stock in marriage. You can be happy with more than one person. If you find one person, and you think you’ll stay with them for a long time, then do it. You don’t need a piece of paper to say you love the person. Love isn’t binding yourself to someone else so tightly that there isn’t any wiggle room. Love is being with someone who makes you happy and trusting that if they leave, they’ll love you enough to do it nicely,” Darcy finished, setting her cupcake down gently. “It’s irrational to think that you’ll be able to love one person for the rest of your life, and it’s irresponsible to make that promise.”

            The balcony was quiet.

            Clint twitched in his seat. “Is that really how you feel?”

            Darcy nodded and spoke quietly. “It is.”

 

            That evening, after helping Darcy run a few dozen cupcakes across town when Loki and Thor went MIA for a couple of hours, Peter was perched on a stool behind the counter, waiting for Natasha to return with her coat so they could leave. Tony had swung by the house when he was out running errands and picked up Peter’s paper for him so that they could leave as soon as they shut down for the night. Today had been slow. Bruce went home early, eager to start in on some experiment he and Tony were running throughout the next week. Steve and Tony were driving down to see an old friend of Steve’s for dinner, and Thor and Loki were long gone, having been sent home for wandering off. Peter was alone in the front of the bakery. Natasha and Clint were somewhere in the back of the building, and Peter could hear Darcy moving around on the balcony, murmuring into her cell phone. Peter yawned and stretched, rolling his neck around.

            The door to the bakery was kicked open and two men came barging in.

            “Hey, we’re closed,” Peter said, looking up suddenly.

            One of the men drew a handgun from his waistband. “Does it look like I give a fuck, kid?”

            Peter slid off the stool. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! You don’t need to point that at me. I’m just a dumb kid, I’m not going to fight you.”

            “Y-you aren’t?” The second man narrowed his dark eyes in confusion.

            Peter kept his hands in sight and moved toward the register, at the same time positioning himself closer to the man with the gun. “Of course not. I don’t want to get shot.”

            Peter glanced up and saw Darcy staring down at him, her mouth open in horror. He looked away quickly, hoping neither of the men had noticed.

            “So what do you want?” Peter asked loudly, intending to draw their attention to him.

            The man with the gun laughed. “What the fuck do you think we want? Empty the register into one of them bags.”

            “And the rest of those cookies!” The other man ordered. “I got a sweet tooth.”

            Peter reached under the counter blindly, snagging two paper bags. He dumped the tray of cookies into one of them and set it on the counter. He unlocked the drawer with his ID card and started pulling bills out a few at a time, stalling for time. His gaze flicked up to check on the men. The one with the gun was in arm’s reach, and the other- Peter froze. The door to the dumbwaiter was sliding open slowly. A boot slid out, followed by one denim-clad leg, and then the other. Darcy unfolded herself and gestured for Peter to call attention to himself. Peter hesitated for a second and then gave the greatest fake sneeze in history. Both muggers jumped and turned toward him. As they did, Darcy lept out, slamming into the unarmed man. Peter lunged forward, knocking the gun out of the other man’s hand and pushing him into the corner of the counter. The man flinched in pain and slumped, giving Peter the opening he needed. Within a few seconds, Peter had him on the ground and was kneeling on his back. He could hear the sound of scuffled fighting around the corner of the counter and leaned forward. He caught sight of Darcy just as her foot connected with the intruders gonads. The man went pale. Darcy grabbed his slumped shoulders and shoved him to the side, smacking his head against the counter forcefully. The man slumped to the floor, knocked out cold.

            “You okay, Peter?” she asked.

            Peter looked down at the man he was kneeling on. “Yeah. Where the hell are Clint and Natasha? Did they not hear all that?”

            Darcy rolled her eyes. “Probably not from the alley. They had to take out the trash.”

            “Shit!” Peter swore. “I forgot about that. Go get them, I’ll stay here.”

            Darcy leaned over the counter and slapped the bottom of it with her palm.

            “What was that?” Peter peered at the counter.

            “Silent alarm,” Darcy explained.

            Before the words were completely out of her mouth, the kitchen door burst open so quickly it sent a woosh of air over Peter. Clint and Natasha were over them in an instant.

            “What happened?” Clint demanded.

            Natasha crouched next to the unconscious man. “Nice work.”

            “These two came in and tried to rob us,” Peter explained simply.

            “And?” Clint gestured for him to continue.

            “And we stopped them,” Darcy said proudly.

            Clint glanced between the two intruders, his hands on his hips. “Hmm. I’m impressed. You guys are better than guard dogs. Anybody hurt?”

            Peter scanned his limbs. “Not me, this time.

            “Ah, fuck,” Darcy stomped her foot. “This asshole made me bleed on my jeans. Can I kick him?”

            “Yes,” Natasha and Clint said in unison.

            Darcy nailed the guy in the ribs and went into the bathroom to try to wipe up all the blood she could. Clint looked down at Peter, who was still kneeling on the gunman. Clint crouched in front of him and tapped the trapped man on his shoulder.

            “So, should I call the police now or after I let the angry girls deal with you?” Clint said pleasantly.

            The man groaned and dropped his face to the floor. “Just kill me now, man.”

            Clint laughed happily. “Oh, this is my lucky day!”

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's been a while since I really updated this story. It kind of got nudged aside while I was working on Running Through The Halls, so I apologize. However, I'm kind of in a rut right now and working with a few little scenes, so let me know if there's something you'd like to see, or if you have an idea? I'll credit you if it's used and I will owe you a dozen mental cookies.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Um, excuse me, but does no one else remember what happened the last time Tony threw us all in the back of a truck and took us to see a surprise?" Bruce stared at them meaningfully.

"Staff meeting at the front counter in two minutes!" Tony yelled, bursting through the front door.

Steve and Peter exchanged a weary look. For the past week, Tony had been working on a project. He locked his office at all times and stayed late almost every night. It seemed that today he would be revealing his plans to the rest of them. As the employees slowly gathered together, Tony flitted through the bakery, locking things up and pulling blinds. He turned and surveyed the group, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet. 

"Everybody outside and into the delivery truck!" Tony ordered. "Don't question me, just trust me and do it."

They all reluctantly followed his orders and climbed into the back of the truck. Tony stretched up to grab hold of the door latch and tossed Steve a flashlight. 

"Sit down and hold on. We're only going a couple miles from here. And stay in here when we stop," Tony finished, pulling the latch and leaving his friends in the refrigerated darkness of the truck. 

Steve clicked on the flashlight and took a seat between Peter and Darcy. "Does anyone else have a bad feeling about this?"

"I do," Clint raised his hand from his place next to Darcy.           

"Relax," Natasha said soothingly. "Tony's eccentric, but he isn't usually dangerous."

"What if he found out some dark secret about all of us and he snapped and now he's going to drive the truck into the bay with all of us locked in the back so we drown?" Clint said eerily.

"Nay! Anthony seemed in clear thoughts," Thor spoke up confidently. "It is most likely a jest of some sort."

"Um, excuse me, but does no one else remember what happened the last time Tony threw us all in the back of a truck and took us to see a surprise?" Bruce stared at them meaningfully.

"I don't think I was here for that..." Peter murmured.

"Shh!" Darcy hushed him. "This sounds like the beginning to an extremely kinky story that I really want to hear."

"Oh, no," Steve sighed. 

Peter peered around. "What? What happened last time?"

"The bakery," Natasha answered simply. "Three years ago, Tony loaded all of us into the back of this very truck- minus the logo on the outside and the refrigeration- and told us he had a surprise. Ten minutes later, we were standing in an empty building and Tony was telling us we were all proud co-owners of a bakery."

Clint pointed his finger accusingly. "I told you! I told you we shouldn't have gotten in the truck!"

Darcy raised her hand. "I don't see how this is a bad thing. He has a present for us. Isn't that usually good?"

"Darcy," Loki snapped his fingers to get her attention. "The man bought a bakery."

Darcy hesitated. "It's the thought that counts?"

"What thought was there?" Loki asked somewhat less harshly than expected. "None of us had any experience or knowledge. Tony was an inventor, a businessman. Steve was a museum curator and a painter. Thor was building homes, I was supervising him. Natasha was the interior decorator who helped us, and she was a copy editor for the newspaper. Clint was-"

"Woah!" Clint shrieked. "Not in front of the children! We can't talk about that."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, the facts remain. It was irrational and brash. It all worked out in the end, but it was an act of spontaneity, not one that was carefully thought through as it should have been."

"Wait, hold on. What did Clint do? Why can't we talk about it?" Peter asked.

Darcy gasped. "You were a stripper weren't you? A hooker? An escort? _A pornstar?_ "

"No!" Clint yelped. "We just can't talk about it. It's classified."

Darcy and Peter traded suspicious glances. Peter opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Tony flinging the door open. 

"We're here! Nobody move. Just stay right there," Tony instructed, stepping onto the back bumper of the truck. "Now, we have been business partners and coworkers for three years. In some cases, only a month or two, but we're still close. We were friends long before we started the bakery, and we love each other. We're like our own not-so-little family now. Which is why I brought you here. Come inside."

Tony dropped down and stepped aside, revealing the most gorgeous Victorian house in the country.  Calling it a house was a bit of an understatement, really. Mansion would be more accurate. Looking up at the whitewashed walls and the beautifully carved trim, everyone was speechless. A wrap around porch with a gray stone floor protruded from the house, an elegant, hand carved rail surrounding the outer edge. The front door had a huge, ornate gray knocker and looked to be hand-carved. The shutters were a cool gray and the cream colored curtains hanging in the windows seemed too pure to be this close to Tony Stark. There were three full stories, and a smaller studio on the roof. The grounds had been well taken care of. The grass was lush and freshly cut. There were flowers planted on both sides of the stone driveway, and a rose garden decorated the western side of the house. Clint could see the edge of a pool in the back yard as well as what was probably a shed, but looked like a small home.

“Tony…what is this place?” Steve asked carefully.

“Well,” Tony swallowed, suddenly uncertain. “That’s up to all of you, but I’d like it to be our home. Not just ours, Steve, but everyone’s. There’s more than enough room, and with a little bit of remodeling on the inside, the rooms can be customized to their inhabitants. There’s a pool in the back, a bike path through the woods behind the house, a small greenhouse, and a killer kitchen. So…what do you think?”

Everyone stared at the house in awed silence.

“This…” Darcy breathed.

Tony leaned forward expectantly. “Yes?”

“This is the shit. I can’t explain it more elegantly. It’s just the shit,” Darcy said decisively.

Peter jerked his head toward Darcy. “I’m with her.”

“Um, yeah, pretty much. You really bought us a house?” Clint asked.

Tony smiled sheepishly. “Uh, yeah, yeah I did. A little.”

Loki snorted. “How do only buy a house a little, Stark?”

Darcy’s gaze flicked between Peter and Clint as she stepped slowly towards the house. “Okay, well I’m just going to pick out my room.”

She broke into a run, sprinting up the stairs and flinging the front door open. Clint was right behind her with Peter hot on his heels, both of them shouting at a screeching Darcy.

Natasha shook her head. “Let’s go look at the greenhouse, Bruce.”

They disappeared around the corner of the house with Thor and Loki lagging behind, leaving Tony with Steve, who hadn’t said anything in an alarmingly long time.

“The studio is yours,” Tony said abruptly. “All yours. It has a ton of windows, and I’m going to have shelves put in for your supplies. I’ll make a special one with holes for your brushes, too. Unless you don’t want one of those. If you don’t, I’ll just get you a bucket or something.”

“You’re rambling,” Steve murmured.

Tony smiled sheepishly. “So what do you say? Can we keep it?”

Steve turned towards the house. He could hear people shrieking with laughter inside, and he heard Thor’s booming laughter in the backyard. Steve had always envisioned having a large family. He hadn’t quite pictured it like this, but it was better than he could ever have dreamed. They were a family, and families should stick together.

“It looks like home,” Steve told Tony, watching the other man’s face light up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my way of getting them together in a sort of AU Avengers Mansion


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a huge wedding order due to be delivered first thing tomorrow morning. It was one of the biggest orders they had ever received, and everyone had been busting their asses to get the work done in time. Steve and Bruce had been baking nonstop for days trying to keep up with the regular orders and finish the wedding order on time. The order was for six hundred cupcakes and a four-tier wedding cake decked out with the best of the best. The bride had requested her favorite diamonds be incorporated into the wedding topper, so Clint had spent the past three days trying to come up with a design to please her, then piecing it together and adding the jewels. Darcy and Peter had been elbow deep in frosting all week. The order was so big that even Tony pitched in, rolling up his sleeves and tying on an apron. Natasha and Darcy had both made sure to get pictures, just in case they needed it for blackmail later in life. With the delivery deadline looming, everyone was running around like crazy, and Steve and Bruce hadn’t been to sleep in a couple of days.

“A little help here?” Clint’s voice wobbled as he tried to balance the trays of cupcakes he was carrying in from the kitchen.

            Natasha helped him set them down on the counter and instructed Darcy to start boxing them up. There was a huge wedding order due to be delivered first thing tomorrow morning. It was one of the biggest orders they had ever received, and everyone had been busting their asses to get the work done in time. Steve and Bruce had been baking nonstop for days trying to keep up with the regular orders and finish the wedding order on time. The order was for six hundred cupcakes and a four-tier wedding cake decked out with the best of the best. The bride had requested her favorite diamonds be incorporated into the wedding topper, so Clint had spent the past three days trying to come up with a design to please her, then piecing it together and adding the jewels. Darcy and Peter had been elbow deep in frosting all week. The order was so big that even Tony pitched in, rolling up his sleeves and tying on an apron. Natasha and Darcy had both made sure to get pictures, just in case they needed it for blackmail later in life. With the delivery deadline looming, everyone was running around like crazy, and Steve and Bruce hadn’t been to sleep in a couple of days.

            “Clint!” Peter called from the balcony. “We’re out of sugar pearls.”

            “Again?” Clint whined. “How many cupcakes do we have left to decorate?”

            Peter turned to count. “At least two hundred.”

            “I’ll go to the supply warehouse. Do we need anything else?” Clint asked, grabbing his keys.

            Peter surveyed the balcony. “Not on the decorating end.”

            Darcy pushed through the kitchen door. “We’re almost out of eggs and butter.”

            Clint grabbed his jacket. “Good timing. I’m going on a supply run. Anything else?”

            “Caffeine?” she requested.

            Natasha glanced up from the order book. “Darcy, could you go with Clint? He tends to get distracted in the warehouse and we need those supplies as fast as possible.”

            “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” Darcy saluted, pulling her sweatshirt on.

            Clint held the door open for her and followed her out to the car, leaving the bakery in relative silence. Had Tony gone with them, it would’ve been the quietest the bakery had been in three years.

 

            “Whoa,” Darcy stared at the scene in front of her, jaw hanging open. “What is this, heaven?”

            Clint grinned. “Pretty close to it for people like us. Come on, I’ll show you the pearl section.”

            Darcy followed him slowly. “They have a whole section just for pearls?”

            “Yep. And two whole aisles devoted entirely to gumpaste,” Clint told her, knowing gumpaste was her weakness.

            Darcy stopped walking. “You’re shitting me. Can I live here?”

            “That might be frowned upon. Especially since we finally got all our stuff moved into that freaking mansion a couple of days ago,” Clint pointed out.

            “I can’t believe Tony bought us a house,” Darcy shook her head. “I can’t believe I share a house with eight other people that I actually like.”

            “I can’t believe that there are eight people you actually like,” Clint teased.

            Darcy rolled her eyes. “Keep laughing, Pearl Boy. Only one of us has a date tonight. The other will be spending the evening with a vat of Tiffany blue buttercream.”

            Clint stopped at the end of a wide aisle, throwing his arms out to the sides. “Welcome to the pearl section.”

            “No freaking way! This is so cool!” Darcy jumped up and down. “This place is like the Home Depot of baking. Is that a keg full of sugar pearls? I didn’t know I needed this until right now.”

            “You’re in luck,” Clint said, hoisting the keg onto his shoulder. “Because this is exactly what we need. What else is on the list?”

            Darcy glanced at the hastily scrawled notes on her wrist. “Eggs and butter. Also a room alone with that mixer. Hey, baby, how you doing?”

            Clint grinned and kept walking. He’d no idea how much Darcy actually liked all of this bakery stuff until this week. She didn’t seem to mind staying up until three in the morning frosting perfect swoops on cupcakes. She actually enjoyed using the itty-bitty tweezers to pick up the miniscule spheres of pearly sugar and arranging them just so on the perfectly shaped mound of frosting. She had even willingly skipped a date to help Clint dye three vats of buttercream the exact shade of the Tiffany’s box the bride had given them as reference. Now, seeing her in the warehouse, he could tell that, even if she didn’t say so, she really enjoyed working at the bakery. Clint wondered for a moment if her boyfriend knew that, or if he, like Clint had initially, thought that Darcy was just in it for the college credit.

            “Clint!” Darcy gasped, pulling him out of his thoughts.

            His muscles tensed, mistaking her urgency for terror. “What? What’s the matter?”

            Darcy pointed silently at the aisle in front of them. She made a noise on par with the angelic singing at the gates of heaven.

            “Ah, you found the naughty cake section,” Clint sighed.

            Darcy stepped into the aisle, dazed. “So many penis molds. So many model vaginas. _Where have you been all my life?_ ”

            Clint bit back a chuckle. “Darcy. Focus. We have to get this stuff back to the bakery.”

            “But,” Darcy whined, “look at the sugary phallic confections I could make with this!”

            Clint pulled out his phone. “Okay I have to send this to Peter. Smile!”

            Darcy struck a pose with the penis mold held in front of her like Excalibur.

            “Okay,” she said, after Clint took the picture. “We can go now. My life is complete.”

            Six dozen eggs, eight pounds of butter, and one leering cashier later, Clint and Darcy loaded their spoils into the back of the car and headed back to the bakery. They spent the entire ride back singing oldies very loudly and usually off key.

 

            Peter hurried to hold open the door when he spotted Clint with the keg of decorations on his shoulder and Darcy laden down with bags of butter.

            “Thanks, Parker. How’s it going?” Darcy asked.

            Peter pulled the door shut behind them. “Not bad. There are only a couple dozen cupcakes left to frost, so we can just focus on decorating for a while. Steve and Bruce put the last batch of batter they had made into the pans. I’ll run the ingredients back there.”

            “I’ve got it, Peter,” Steve volunteered, walking in from the kitchen with Tony right behind him. “Thank you two for going on a supply run. After tomorrow, I might rethink taking on cake orders for celebrities. This has all been one big kick in the ass.”

            Natasha snorted. “No shit. If that little princess calls here one more time to check on the status of her order, I’m going to shove my foot-”

            Natasha was interrupted by a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by dead silence. All of the blood drained out of Steve’s face and he dashed into the kitchen. Clint raced to the ladder and climbed as fast as his body would let him, throwing himself onto the floor of the balcony and snapping the curtains shut. The rest of them glanced at each other in fear and followed Steve quickly. The sight that greeted them had them screeching to a halt.

            “ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING?” Bruce shrieked. “BECAUSE I’M NOT LAUGHING. THIS IS ME NOT LAUGHING!”

            The top two tiers of the cake were splattered across the kitchen floor, a smear of blue frosting arcing across the front of the ovens. Bruce was covered in flecks of buttercream and cake debris.

            Bruce was seething, a deadly glare burning into the mess on the floor. “THREE DAYS! I HAVEN’T SLEPT IN THREE FUCKING DAYS. MOTHERFUCKER! WHAT IS MY LIFE ANYMORE?! I SPENT THREE GODDAMN DAYS BAKING THAT PIECE OF SHIT AND GIVING IT ALL OF MY TENDER MOTHERFUCKING LOVING CARE AND THIS IS HOW IT REPAYS ME? BY FALLING ON THE FUCKING FLOOR? I- I- UGHHHH!”  

            In a fit of rage, Bruce ripped off his apron and tore his shirt in two, screaming in the agony known only by those who have seen their life’s work ripped into pieces and scattered to the wind. Bruce was breathing heavily, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing. He looked as if he was about to drop to the ground and start pummeling the cake with his fists. Tony stepped towards him carefully.

            “Take it easy big guy. It’ll be okay. Just calm down,” Tony cooed soothingly, taking the man by his shoulders

            Bruce looked up at him, his eyes wild. “ _Three_ _days_ , Tony.”

            “I know,” Tony nodded. “I know. It’ll be okay. Let’s go get some fresh air and track down a shirt.”

            “Three days,” Bruce whimpered, letting Tony lead him out to the back alley.

            Steve was staring down at the floor helplessly, his face pitiful. Peter moved around him to grab a mop and bucket from the cabinet. Darcy went in the front to track down a trash bag and some plastic gloves. Natasha helped them scoop up the ruined cake remains and scrub down the floor. Peter worked at the edge of the splash zone, wiping down the ovens and the counter. It only took about ten minutes to clean up, but Peter knew that it had taken them hours to bake the tiers, shape them perfectly, and frost them. He glanced at Steve worriedly. The man hadn’t moved a muscle in the time it had taken them to fix the mess. Peter wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t fallen asleep standing up. He was surprised when Steve suddenly turned on his heel and started gathering ingredients on the counter.

            “Here, let me help,” Peter offered, moving toward the pantry.

            “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it,” Steve sounded defeated.

            Peter stepped in front of Steve, forcing the man to stop. “You taught me how to do this. I can take care of it. You need a nap. Go crash on the couch in Clint’s nest for a few hours. We can get the cake in the oven.”

            Steve hesitated for a second before smiling sleepily. “Thank you, Peter.”

            Peter watched Steve to make sure the man didn’t fall asleep halfway up the ladder.

            He then turned to Darcy and Natasha and wiped his hands on the apron around his waist. “Ladies, let’s get to work.”

            It only took them a few minutes to fall into a solid rhythm. Soon, they were cranking out cakes like a machine. Natasha had made the executive decision to close the bakery for the rest of the afternoon. The bakery was pretty well off anyway, but the extra revenue from the wedding order would more than make up for the missed hours. Tony passed through the kitchen only once, to deliver Bruce straight to the couch in his office. He poked his head in after an hour or so to tell them he’d called Thor and Loki in to help decorate, but other than that, he stayed with Clint, adding pearls to the tops of the cupcakes.

            By the time Steve stumbled into the kitchen, the replacement tiers had been baked, cooled, stacked, and halfway through being frosted. Steve smiled proudly and left the three of them to finish up. Bruce emerged from Tony’s office looking much calmer and wearing one of Thor’s t-shirts. Clint’s balcony was full of cupcakes, and the sight of Thor and Loki dropping the pearls on the cupcakes with the mini tweezers was comical. It had taken nearly half an hour for Thor to arrange the decorations correctly, but once he got it, he worked faster than Tony and Loki combined. Clint kept an eye on them while he worked on the sugar flowers for the cake. When the cake was completely iced, Natasha and Peter carried it out to the front of the bakery carefully, placing it on the counter to decorate. Everyone moved down to the counter to help put the cake together. With the help of everyone in the bakery, they had the rest of the cupcakes and the entire cake decorated in a little over an hour.

            Tony stepped back to survey their work. “Ladies and gentlemen, we deserve a fucking award.”

            “I’d settle for some food,” Clint yawned.

            Tony pulled out his cell phone and walked into his office, putting a call in to a pizzeria down the street. Half an hour later, the cakes were in the walk-in, the cupcakes were boxed up next to it, and the employees of the bakery were sprawled across the floor in a circle, half a dozen boxes of pizzas and a few six packs in the middle.

            Darcy popped the cap off of a beer and nodded proudly. “We did damn good today.”

            Steve nodded in agreement. “We couldn’t have pulled it off without you and Peter.”

            “And you questioned my choice to bring them in,” Natasha clicked her tongue.

            Peter took out his phone and nearly choked on his pizza. “Darcy?”

            “What’s up, Parker?” Darcy bit into a slice of pepperoni.

            “What the hell are you doing?” Peter held his phone out, showing the picture from the warehouse.

            Clint leaned over her shoulder to see the screen and burst out laughing. “Darcy found the naughty cake aisle at the warehouse.”

            Natasha smiled knowingly. “The silicone penis molds.”

            “Yes!” Darcy slapped the floor with her free hand. “I’m telling you, we would get so many more orders if we had a giant sugar penis on display.”

            Loki smirked. “I’m not entirely sure we want drunken college girls trying to break into the bakery at two in the morning trying to eat it.”

            Darcy pointed at him. “Valid point. But I’m requesting now that my birthday cake have a sugar penis on it.”

            “Noted,” Steve nodded.

            “Uh, Darcy?” Peter pointed to his phone. “You’re forgetting something.”

            Darcy looked at him blankly. “Wh- oh shit!” She shot to her feet, wiping her greasy hands on the butt of her jeans. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m late!”

            Clint handed over her sweatshirt and she took it gratefully, pulling it on. “I’ll see you guys later!”

            “Be home by eleven!” Peter called jokingly. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

            “No promises. Don’t wait up!” Darcy called over her shoulder, making a run for her car.

            Steve smiled indulgently. “She’s a sweet girl. Whoever that boy is, he better take care of her.”

            Tony pulled a face. “What do we actually know about this kid? Peter?”

            “Not much. His name is Jack Hart or something like that. He’s an art student at the university. I met him once or twice. He’s all right, I guess,” Peter shrugged. “He can’t be that bad. This is the first semi-committed relationship Darcy has been in since I met her.”

            “Well,” Tony reached for another beer. “A background check couldn’t hurt.”

            “I’m on it,” Natasha assured him, snagging another piece of pizza.

 

            The house was dark. The moon was a thin sliver in the sky, and the streetlights didn’t reach halfway up the drive, let alone the front porch. Darcy tried to move as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake anyone. She stumbled over a bush and caught herself before she face planted into the grass. She climbed the front steps slowly, being careful not to fall. She tried the front door. It was locked. Darcy didn’t feel like searching through her purse in the dark for the key, so she followed the porch around to the side door, which was usually unlocked. She tried the handle and pushed open the door. She stepped inside and shut the door gently. Two steps in, the room was flooded with light. Darcy flinched, her hands coming up to cover her eyes. After a moment, her eyes had adjusted enough to look up. Clint stood in the doorway, clad only in sleep pants, his hair tousled and his eyes heavy.

            “Hi,” he grunted.

            Darcy straightened up, trying to maintain her dignity. “Hello. Fancy meeting you here.”

            Clint quirked an eyebrow. “You just getting in?”

            “Maybe. Are you waking up for the day?” Darcy asked.

            “Hell no. It’s two thirty,” Clint said.

            Darcy glared at him. “Were you waiting up for me?”

            “No,” Clint laughed. “My room is right above the front door. I heard someone stomping through the bushes and then trying to get in the front door. I figured it was either you or a ballsy thief, so I came down to check it out.”

            “Oh. Well, thanks. I think,” Darcy dropped her purse on the counter next to Natasha’s and kicked off her shoes. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus.”

            Clint was watching her curiously and Darcy couldn’t help but notice how _attractive_ he made bedhead look. Clint yawned and stretched and it took everything in Darcy not to drool like an idiot.

            She cleared her throat. “Well, I should go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

            Clint nodded and waited until she was out of the kitchen before shutting off the light. Darcy kept one hand on the wall to guide her up the stairs. She felt Clint’s presence behind her and had to remind herself to keep moving. She finally made it to her room and threw open the door, collapsing face first on her bed. She realized a second later that Clint stood in the doorway.

            “Can I help you?” she whispered, rolling over.

            She could just barely make out Clint’s grin in the dark. “Nope. Just admiring you grace.”

            Darcy pulled the comforter up to her chin and wriggled out of her jeans, tossing them on the floor. “I was a ballerina in a past life.”

            Clint laughed softly. “Good night, Darcy.”

            “Good night,” she called softly as he shut her door soundlessly.

            Darcy rolled onto her stomach and buried her head in the pillow, trying to block out the image of Clint standing in her bedroom without a shirt on. _Jack_ , she scolded herself. _Imagine Jack half naked._ Yet, somehow, even with her very creative imagination, Jack couldn’t pull off the look half as well as Clint did.

            “ _Fuck_ ,” Darcy mumbled into her mattress.

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been swamped with family stuff and holiday crap. I've been meaning to post a couple of chapters, but I haven't had time. So here it is, at last. I hope everyone had a decent holiday.


	12. Chapter Twelve

“You okay there, Darcy?” Natasha asked as she passed the stool the young woman was slumped upon.

            Darcy groaned, not bothering to lift her head. “M’fine.”

            Natasha stopped and stood in front of the girl. “Look up.”

            “It hurts,” Darcy whimpered, obeying slowly.

            Natasha pressed the back of her hand against Darcy’s forehead and cheeks. “Oh, sweetie, you’re burning up!”

            “Nmph,” Darcy leaned into Natasha’s hand.

            “You’re sick as a dog,” Natasha concluded. “We need to get you into bed. Let me grab your coat and I’ll drive you home.”

            Natasha stepped away and somewhere in the feverish confines of Darcy’s mind, she wondered where the tough as nails, rough and ready Natasha had gone. She kind of liked this side of her, but it was unexpected. There was a loud, hacking cough from the balcony.

            “Not on the gumpaste!” Clint shrieked.

            A moment later, Clint was helping Peter down the ladder.

            “Nat, I think Peter caught the plague,” Clint announced.

            Peter slumped against Darcy’s side, causing her to moan and list to the side. Clint lunged to keep her from falling to the floor.

            Natasha’s brow furrowed. “We’ve got two of them. All right, boys, I’m getting these two home,” she said as Tony and Thor wandered in. “The rest of you, disinfect. Ask Steve to phone Dr. Richards for a house call. His wife, Sue, owes me a favor. Put Bruce on soup duty, and Thor? Beg your brother to swing by the house after he finishes the deliveries to brew some of that tea your mom brought. Darcy? Peter? Can you make it to the car on your own?”

            Darcy tried to answer, but was interrupted by a bone jarring sneeze. Peter didn’t even bother to open his mouth, simply nodding once. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Clint, who scooped Darcy off of the stool while Natasha looped her arm through Peter’s to keep him upright as they made their way outside. She helped Peter into the front seat. Clint maneuvered Darcy into the backseat, buckling her seatbelt quickly before she could fall forward.

            “Do you want me to come with you?” Clint asked.

            Natasha tossed him the keys. “Should be fun trying to wrestle them into the house.”

            Clint dropped into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

 

            “Peter? Can you open your eyes?” A voice coaxed, breaking through the seering, pinching darkness.

            Peter cracked open his eyes and flinched at the light. “Ow.”

            “Peter, my name is Reed. I’m a doctor and a friend of Natasha’s. Can you tell me how you feel?” he prodded gently.

            Peter grimaced. “Achy. Hot. Dizzy. Ouch.”

            Reed’s lips quirked up at the corner. “Add that to- what was it Darcy said?”

            “Yucky, icky, ow, cold, bleh, pukey,” Natasha listed, amusement in her voice.

            Reed nodded. “Sounds like the flu to me. Both of them have high fevers, so you’ll need to monitor that. Between the sweating from the chills and the congestion, they’re going to need a lot of fluids. Darcy’s sore throat means she should be drinking warm liquids, and Peter’s cough would be helped by a spoonful of cold honey. I’m leaving the first round of medication with you, but I’ll need to pick up more from my office. I’ll drop it off at the bakery this afternoon.”

            “Thank you, Reed,” Natasha nodded.

            He smiled and laid a hand on Peter’s forehead for a moment before taking his leave.

            Natasha took his place, pressing a cool cloth to Peter’s forehead. “You’ll be just fine, Peter. Loki swung by with some tea, and Bruce is bringing home soup. The medicine Reed gave you should make you feel a little better for the time being.”

            Peter smiled, his eyes drifting closed. “Thanks, Natasha.”

            “You’re welcome, sweetie,” she soothed, her hand stroking his hair back from his face. “We’ll get you and Darcy back in top form soon.”

            “Top form,” Peter murmured. “My mom used to say that a lot. When I was little, I mean. Before the…before the…”

            Natasha shushed him, her hand moving to pat his shoulder consolingly. Peter’s head lolled to the side and his chest rose and fell deeply. Natasha smiled softly at the teenage boy. She felt an overwhelming need to make him feel better. Natasha had always been a protective “mother bear” to those she loved, but most of them had no need for her nurturing. It was nice to be needed, she thought, to be a balm to someone’s suffering. She leaned back in her chair and watched Peter, who began to toss fitfully in his sleep. She reached out, her hand brushing his clammy cheek, and he stilled. A warm feeling settled in Natasha’s chest.

           

            “C-c-cold,” Darcy huffed, shuddering.

            “I know, Darce. I’ve got another blanket right here,” Clint assured her, tucking a second comforter around her shoulders.

            She curled into herself on the bed, drawing the blankets tighter. Her body was shaking and her forehead shone with a light sheen of cold sweat, one that is a sure sign of fever. Clint offered her a mug of hot tea from the nightstand.

            “Drink this. It’ll warm you up, and it’ll make your throat feel better,” Clint urged her.

            Darcy struggled to a sitting position. Clint sat beside her so she could lean on him. Darcy fell against his side, leeching away his body heat. Clint watched her drink shakily from the mug. When she was finished, he took it from her and moved to stand.

            “No! So…warm,” Darcy pleaded, throwing her arms around his middle.

            Clint chuckled. “All right, all right. Hold on. I have to go grab your antibiotics and check on Nat and Peter. I’ll be right back.”  
            Darcy burrowed in her blankets as he left the room, hurrying down to the kitchen to swipe her pills. He checked his phone, opening a text from Tony begging for an update. Clint typed a quick reply and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Glancing out the kitchen window, he saw Dr. Richards’ car pulling out of the driveway. He skipped up the stairs and into Peter’s room. Natasha looked up and held a finger to her lips.

            “He just fell asleep a few minutes ago,” she whispered, her gaze on Peter.

            “God, he looks like a baby when he sleeps,” Clint murmured affectionately.

            Natasha hummed in agreement. “How’s Darcy holding up?”

            “Freezing to death, apparently. She can’t get warm, even though she has two comforters wrapped around her and half of her wardrobe on,” Clint told her.  
            Natasha shot him a look. “Clint.”

            “What?” he asked cluelessly.

            Natasha rolled her eyes. “What the hell did they teach you in wilderness survival? The best way to warm someone up is through shared body heat. Get in bed with her.”

            Clint stifled a laugh. “I was just going to try to find a heated blanket, Nat.”

            “Oh. I suppose that would work. Except that she could get overheated very easily. Her temperature recognition is skewed because of the fever,” Natasha bit her lip in thought. “No. My idea is better.”

            Clint held up his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say.”

            Natasha waved him away before he could wake up Peter. A few doors down, Darcy was still buried in the small mountain of blankets.

            “Cold, Clint, close the door,” Darcy mumbled pathetically.

            Clint shut the door and slipped off his shoes. “Move over, Darce.”

            Darcy wiggled to the side to make room for him. He climbed in beside her and she threw an arm over his stomach, her cold feet pressing against his shins. Clint tucked an arm under his head and looked up at the ceiling.

            “Better?” he asked.

            Darcy nodded, the top of her ponytail brushing his jaw. “You’re hot.”

            They both froze for a beat.

            “I’m trying to care that I just said that, but you know what I meant, and it seems like a lot of unnecessary work,” Darcy admitted.

            Clint smirked. “Oh, I know exactly what you meant, and we’ll talk about it when you aren’t sick.”

            “Shut up,” Darcy muttered, slapping Clint’s abdomen lightly.

            It fell quiet and soon Darcy’s shivering stopped. She was still for so long that Clint thought she’d fallen asleep.

            “Thanks,” she murmured suddenly, her voice muffled. “For making me feel better.”

            Clint smiled, feeling her cheek move against his chest as she spoke. “No problem, Darce. I’m here for you.”

            A few minutes later, Clint noted her slowed breathing. She’d fallen asleep on his chest. He wasn’t really bothered by it. It felt nice, the warm weight of her pressed against his side. Her breath blew softly, feather light against the material of his t-shirt. Clint shifted and the smell of her shampoo drifted up to his nose. It smelled like apples and fresh flowers. It was a refreshing change from the bakery scents that usually assaulted him day and night. Jesus, even Tony came home smelling like butter and cinnamon. Clint tucked a pillow under his head and pulled Darcy a little closer, settling in for a nap of his own.

           

            Natasha awoke with a start, peering around Peter’s dark room in an attempt to decipher what had woken her, what time it was, and if Peter was okay. Peter was still in bed, under her hand. A glance at his clock showed that it was early evening, though the winter’s early sunset was deceiving enough that it felt like midnight. Natasha relaxed, chalking up her abrupt awakening to being overly alert.

            Suddenly, the silence was broken by Peter’s hoarse shot. “Mama! Dad!”

            Natasha went rigid.

            “Mama!” Peter cried. “Mama!”

            Natasha leaned over him, speaking in a soothing tone. “Peter? Peter, wake up. It’s just a dream. You’re okay.”

            “Mama, don’t leave me! Please!” Peter begged, thrashing in his blankets.

            “Shit,” Natasha cursed lowly, her heart breaking. “Peter, honey, wake up. It’s a dream.”

            Peter reached for Natasha, his eyes bright with fever and delirium. “Mama! Mama!”

            Natasha reached for the cold cloth and pressed it against his blazing skin. Peter struggled for a moment, then stilled, murmuring sleepily before drifting off again. Natasha pulled herself to her feet and stumbled out into the hallway, where she leaned heavily against the wall and pressed her hands to her eyes, holding back tears.

            “Natasha?” Steve asked in alarm, rounding the corner. “What happened? Are you okay?”

            Natasha nodded, taking a deep breath and shaking herself. “I’m fine, Steve. I just- Peter’s delirious. He was having a dream, and he, uh, he thought I was his mother. He…Steve, he called me ‘mama.’”

            Steve rubbed her back comfortingly. “It’s okay, Tasha. He’ll be fine.”

            “I know. I just…It’s like-” Natasha trailed off.

            “Like he’s kind of your own kid,” Steve finished. “I know the feeling. Peter and Darcy, I think, are sort of our communal children. We all think of them as our own, so when they go through something like that, it’s upsetting. Those two, they make us think and act like parents. In a way, they kind of _are_ our kids.”

            Natasha wiped her eyes and straightened her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess they are.”

           

            There was a grunt from under the heap of blankets.

            “Darce. Darcy. Hey, Lewis!” Clint shook her.

            “Hmm?” she groaned against his side.

            Clint squirmed. “I think I’m dying over here. You’re a fucking furnace.”

            Darcy rolled over, releasing him. Clint kicked of the blankets and stood, stretching. He leaned over the bed to feel Darcy’s forehead.

            “Hmph. At least 102. Still feeling toasty in there?” he asked.

            Darcy freed an arm to flash him a thumbs up.

            Clint nodded once. “Awesome. I’m gonna go shower and then I’ll be back to check on you. If you need anything, Natasha’s down the hall with Peter.”

            Darcy made a noise of acknowledgement and Clint slipped out of the room. Twenty minutes later, Clint padded down the hallway in a pair of sweatpants, his hair damp. He peeked in on Nat and Peter. Nat had fallen asleep with her head on the edge of Peter’s bed. Clint checked his watch. It’d be about an hour before anyone got home from the bakery. He continued down the hall and peeked in at Darcy. She was shuddering again, wrapped up like a burrito. Clint closed the door with his foot and nudged Darcy.

            “Go away,” she ordered weakly from her bundle.

            Clint cocked his head, confused. “What? Seriously, you’re shaking, Lewis. Move over.”

            “Nope,” Darcy huddled into a tight ball.

            “Lewis, move your ass!” Clint commanded. “You have a fever, you’re shivering, and you’re going to smother in all of those blankets.”

            Darcy’s middle finger snaked out of the blankets.

            Clint sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled the top of the blanket down, uncovering Darcy’s face.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked.

            Darcy yanked the blanket back in place and turned away. “I called you hot and slept on you.”

            “I am hot, and you had an invitation. Move over,” Clint said, muscling her to the side.

            She hesitated for a second before returning to her spot against his bare chest. “You smell like soap.”

            Clint dropped an arm around her shoulders. “Usually happens when you shower.”

            “You showered?” Darcy lifted her head slightly.

            Clint patted her arm gently. “You know what, how about you just go to sleep?”

            “Mkay,” Darcy relented, dropping her head against his chest.

            Clint stifled a yawn, his chin resting on Darcy’s head.

 

            Steve gave Natasha a short hug. “How’s Darcy?”

            “I’m not sure. Clint was watching her while I was with Peter,” Natasha explained.

            Steve and Natasha moved down the hall, ducking into Peter’s room to make sure he was still sleeping. Steve pushed open Darcy’s door and froze.

            “Remember that thing I said about Darcy being like a kid to us?” Steve whispered over his shoulder.

            Natasha’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Yeah…”

            “Don’t apply that to Clint,” Steve warned, stepping to the side.

            Natasha grinned at the sight of Darcy passed out, clinging to Clint’s chest, which was- if Natasha was seeing correctly- bare. Clint was fast asleep, too, his hair sticking up at odd angles, and his arm wrapped around Darcy protectively.

            “Oh, come on,” Natasha teased quietly. “Tell me they aren’t adorable.”

            Steve grinned. “As long as Tony doesn’t walk in on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this the night after Christmas because I was bored as all hell and running a fever. I took it out on the bbys. Let's hope Tony doesn't find out.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She made a face. “I don’t know. Things are going well, I guess. I just…I don’t know. He makes me feel weird.”  
>  Tony looked concerned. “What? Like serial killer weird?”  
>  “No! Nothing like that. It’s like I’m…perky,” Darcy spat.  
>  Tony about severed his tongue trying to bite back his laughter. “Okay, well how about inviting Mr. Perky over for dinner this weekend?”

# Chapter 13

          A week later, about the time of the first snowfall of the year, Darcy and Tony were running deliveries together. Thor and Loki had taken some time off to visit family. Thor had been giddy with excitement when Steve had driven them to the airport. Loki, on the other hand, had looked like he was contemplating throwing himself out of the moving vehicle on the highway.

          Tony pulled up in front of the administration building of the university. “Are we almost done? I think I actually miss my desk.”

          “Uh…” Darcy scrolled through the list of deliveries on her phone. “We have two deliveries left, not including this one. Both of them are on campus, though, so we should be done pretty soon.”

          Tony made a noise of triumph and jumped down from the driver’s seat. Darcy, having forgotten to bring a coat this morning, pulled her sweatshirt sleeves down over her hands and followed him to the back. Tony, thankfully, was lazier than Thor was and loaded the boxes onto a cart, rather than relying on brute strength. He was closing up the back when they heard a familiar voice call their names.

          “Hey Wade!” Darcy called through chattering teeth.

          His scarred cheeks were flushed from the cold. “Hey, Darce, Mr. Stark.”

          Tony nodded in his direction. “Wade. Who’s your friend?”

          Darcy swiveled to look, her field of vision limited by the hood of her sweatshirt.

          “This is Matt Murdock. He was my roommate before I moved off campus, and he’s Peter’s lab partner for biology,” Wade explained.

          “Biochemistry,” Matt corrected, his eyes obscured by a pair of dark glasses. “Which is markedly more difficult than biology, particularly when you can’t actually see what you’re analyzing.”

          Only then did Darcy and Tony notice the slim cane Matt held, the tip brushing against the snowy sidewalk. Tony clicked his tongue.      

            “I could improve that. I’m ashamed that you’re stuck with a simple strip of metal when I’ve designed and created literally dozens of more efficient aids,” Tony blurted, not unkindly.

          Matt grinned. “I manage just fine, Mr. Stark, but thank you.”

          “Tell you what,” Tony clapped his gloved hands together. “When you get a chance, come by the bakery and I’ll set you up with one of the models. If you’re comfortable with that, I mean.”

          “Oh, I trust your tech, Mr. Stark. Peter’s told us all about it,” Matt laughed.

          Wade chuckled. “You’ve gotta love that little nerd. Listen, we’ll catch up with you guys later. We have a class across campus in fifteen minutes.”

          They waved the boys off, then turned back to their task. Tony pushed the cart briskly, Darcy walking closely enough to use him as a windshield. In the warm lobby of the building, they paused to soak up the heat. A passing secretary spotted them and took the boxes. They were in and out in less than five minutes, all but sprinting back to the truck. Once warm inside the cab, Darcy took out her phone and spouted off directions for Tony.

          “Hey, how are things going with Jack?” Tony asked.

          Darcy flinched reflexively.

          “That good, eh?” Tony said, catching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

          She made a face. “I don’t know. Things are going well, I guess. I just…I don’t know. He makes me feel weird.”

          Tony looked concerned. “What? Like serial killer weird?”

          “No! Nothing like that. It’s like I’m…perky,” Darcy spat.

          Tony about severed his tongue trying to bite back his laughter. “Okay, well how about inviting Mr. Perky over for dinner this weekend?”

          Darcy was immediately suspicious. “Why?”

          “Because we want to interrogate the boy about his intentions with you and question every life choice he’s ever made,” Tony shot back without missing a beat.

          “I’ll see. I’m not making any promises,” Darcy grumbled, sinking lower in her seat.

         

          “You did what?!?” Steve shouted.

          Tony lunged to shut his office door. “Whoa, there Rogers, relax. I just invited the guy over for dinner, I didn’t sign the marriage license and toss him a condom. What’s the problem? Wade’s been invited over for dinner more than once, and you’ve never freaked out like this.”

          Steve hesitated, obviously picking his words carefully. “I…I just think this is a bad idea.”

          “Please,” Tony pleaded. “I’ve always wanted to scare the shit out of my daughter’s boyfriend.”

          Steve shot Tony a look that told him he’d won his way, but there would be a price to pay.

          “Fine, but you get to be the one to tell Clint,” Steve muttered under his breath as Tony’s hands slid around his hips.

          “Hmm?” Tony cocked an eyebrow.

          “Oh, nothing,” Steve brushed it off. “Just mumbling to myself.”

          Tony gave a wicked grin. “C’mere, I’ll make you mumble.”

          “Tony! The door isn’t even locked!”

         

          “He did what?!” Clint yelled, ripping his toothbrush out of his mouth.

          Natasha stared at him, her back to the bathroom mirror.

          He cleared his throat. “Uh, I mean, I don’t really care. Why would I? She can bring whoever the hell she wants to dinner.”

          “What would you say if I told you she had a reaction on par with yours when I mentioned you were bringing your girlfriend?” Natasha prodded.

          Clint furrowed his brow. “Natasha, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

          “Good thing, because Darcy wants to be yours,” Natasha announced bluntly.

          Clint froze.

          After a full minute without so much as a blink, Natasha smirked. “That’s what I thought. Are you going to tell her, or do I have to do that, too?”

          “She…” Clint swallowed loudly. “She told you that? That she wanted to be my…”

          “Girlfriend,” Natasha supplied. “Not with her words.”

          Clint put his hands on his hips. “What, did she do it through fucking water colors, because I’m not following you!”

          Natasha smiled fondly. “You’re adorable.”

          “Fuck you,” Clint pointed at her. “You are the Russian Lucifer.”

 

          Fast-forward two days, back in the bathroom. Peter sat cross-legged on the bathroom counter as Darcy danced around, trying to adjust her cleavage in her navy sweater.

          “I don’t get it. Why are you so against this dinner?” Peter asked.

          Darcy grunted as she tugged on her underwire. “Because Jack is…It just feels weird, okay?”

          Peter gasped. “This is the first time you’ve brought a boy home to meet the family, isn’t it?”

          Darcy scowled. “I can’t believe there’s an aspect of dating that you’re more experienced in.”

          “Darcy, I hate to tell you this, but that is not an appropriate amount of boob to show at a family dinner,” Peter told her.

          She flashed him in response.

          Peter rifled through the stack of tops she’d brought. “What about this one?”

          It was dark red, with a scoop neck that showed just enough skin and set off the deep brown of her hair. She slipped it on and fluffed out her hair.

          “Good call, Parker. Pass me that mascara?” Darcy gestured to her make up bag.

          There was a whistle from the doorway. “You clean up nice, Darcy.”

          Darcy saw Wade’s wink in the mirror and grinned. “Ah, damn! You missed the peep show by a matter of seconds!”

          “Just my luck!” Wade mock groaned, leaning against the counter next to Peter so that their shoulders brushed. “So, when’s the boy supposed to be here?”

          “Soon. He should be here-oh!” Her phone rang loudly and she grabbed for it. “Jack?”

          “Hey, Darcy. I’m sorry, but I’m running a little late. I should be there in about five minutes, though,” Jack promised.

          The warm feeling she always got in her chest at the sound of his voice flared and her face melted into a smile. “That’s fine. Dinner isn’t until six thirty. Just drive carefully, okay? The roads are getting icy.”

          He assured her he would and disconnected.

          She looked up to find Peter and Wade staring at her, horrified. “What?”

          Peter looked dazed. “That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”

          “I think she cooed,” Wade whispered fearfully.    

          “Oh, fuck off,” Darcy snarled, pushing past them.

          Wade glanced at Peter. “She’s got it even worse than you do.”

          Peter scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

          “Ouch,” Wade covered his chest with his hands. “That hurt me. Right here.”

          Peter bent and brushed a kiss over the back of Wade’s hand. “There. All better.”

          “Hmm, you know on second thought, I think it was more of a face shot,” Wade winked, leaning down to kiss Peter.

          “Don’t fuck in the bathroom!” Darcy called, passing by the open door.

          “No promises,” Peter shot back, his hands pulling Wade closer.

          Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Peter shot off the counter and down the steps, Wade hot on his heels. They reached the first floor in time to see Darcy racing to the door, hipchecking Tony away from the knob. She ran a hand over her hair before opening the door and pulling Jack inside, lacing her fingers in his.

          She gestured to the tall brunette beside her. “This is Jack. Jack, the guy with the goatee is Tony. The blonde guy behind him is Steve, and the redhead is Natasha. The two by the stairs are Peter and Wade. And…wait. Where are Clint and Bruce?”

          “One of Bruce’s lab friends called with some emergency. He left about an hour ago,” Steve explained. “But Clint…”

          “I’ll get him,” Natasha volunteered, starting toward the stairs.

          “Come in, Jack. Sit down. Tell us about your life,” Tony said, staring intently at the man.

 

          “What are you doing?” Natasha demanded, nearly kicking down Clint’s door.

          He glanced up from the book propped up on his knee. “Uh. Reading. Is that okay with you, Comrade?”

          “You’re hiding,” Natasha accused.

          Clint smiled innocently. “I’m just reading, Natasha. That’s all.”  

          “Get up,” she ordered. “Go downstairs.”

          “Why should I?” he sighed, dropping his book.

           Natasha glared at him, her eyes glinting with fury. “Because you aren’t a coward. And because you know that if you stay up here, you’ll disappoint her, and that would be worse for you than suffering through a couple of hours of watching her with this guy. She is so close to accepting the way she feels about you. Don’t give her a reason to ignore that.”

          “Why do you care, Nat?” Clint asked.

          Natasha was quiet for a moment. “I care because she makes you happy. After all you’ve been through, after surviving the shitstorm that is your life, you deserve that. You deserve someone who makes you happy, and as your best friend, I will do my goddamnedest to make sure it happens.” She smiled wryly. “Besides, I owe you. Not only did you save my ass multiple times in Budapest, but you also introduced me to Bucky.”

          “That,” Clint hissed. “Is not something I want to take credit for. And I thought we agreed to never discuss Budapest.”

          Natasha grinned and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, big guy.”

          Clint stood slowly. “I’m going to need alcohol after this.”

          “I think we all will,” Natasha muttered, following him out of the room.

 

          “So. An artist. Must be…messy,” Tony narrowed his eyes.

          Jack shifted uncomfortably next to Darcy at the dining room table. “Yeah. It does get messy sometimes. Especially when you get wrapped up in what you’re creating and you forget to rinse your brushes or forget that you knocked over a container of blue paint.”

          “What you’re saying is that you’re a slob and easily distracted,” Wade clarified.

          Jack paled. “No, just dedicated to my work.”

          “You got any family, Jack?” Tony asked.

          “Uh. No, actually, I don’t. I was orphaned when I was sixteen. My parents were only children, and their parents passed when I was a baby,” Jack explained reluctantly.

          “They didn’t die in a mysterious fire, did they?” Peter tipped his head to the side in thought.

          “Peter!” Darcy gasped.

          Jack cleared his throat. “They, uh, they did. I was at a friend’s house when it happened.”

          Peter nodded. “I remember reading something about it. Your hometown was a few miles east of mine. I’m sorry, man. That must have been terrible.”

          Jack looked away. “Yeah.”

          Peter shot Wade a look.

          “ _Just ‘yeah’?”_ Wade mouthed back.

          Peter shrugged.

          “Could you pass the potatoes, please?” Darcy asked loudly, glaring at Peter.

          He looked suitably chastised for her benefit and handed her the bowl of mashed potatoes.

          Tony spoke up from the head of the table. “Clint, you’re awfully quiet tonight. The hell happened today?”

          Clint glanced up from his plate and grunted. “Just…thinking.”

          Tony opened his mouth to push the subject, but Steve kicked him under the table. The front door opened and closed and loud footsteps echoed in the hall.

          “Who…” Peter turned.

          “Ah! You must be Miss Darcy’s gentleman!” Thor bellowed from the dining room entry.

          Jack’s jaw dropped.

          Darcy leaned to whisper in his ear. “That’s Thor and his brother, Loki. They’re harmless. It’s okay.”

          Jack didn’t look like he really believed her. Thor took the seat on his other side, Loki disappearing into the kitchen. He returned a minute later, in the middle of Thor’s greeting to Jack, with a bottle of vodka. He sat next to Clint, took off the cap, and drank straight from the bottle for a solid minute and a half.

 Clint glanced at him. “Rough week, man?”

Loki clutched the bottle, his eyes glazing over. “I’m almost glad I’m adopted.” He looked up to make sure Darcy was distracted and spoke quietly to Clint. “I can’t imagine this is much fun for you. Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

Clint took the bottle from Loki and drank greedily. “Oh, god, that’s so much better.”

“Hey,” Natasha hissed.

They looked up at her, like scolded children.

Natasha held up a warning finger. “No.”

Loki capped the bottle and set it on the floor between their chairs. They managed to tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Thor ask if Jack was planning on bedding Darcy. Loki and Clint reached for the bottle at the same time, both of them coming up empty. Clint turned and caught Natasha filling her water glass from the bottle. She passed the bottle back and threw back the vodka, licking her lips. Clint couldn’t bring himself to look at Darcy, but the burning red flush on Jack’s face was satisfying. His gaze drifted involuntarily to the girl beside Jack, and his smirk fell. Darcy looked absolutely miserable. Clint swallowed back his feeling for a minute and held up a hand.

“All right, all right. That’s enough, guys. Leave the poor kid alone,” Clint sighed. “Jack, do you watch baseball?”  

He managed to successfully launch a conversation that embarrassed no one at the table, and actually had Jack smiling. Tony stopped ragging on him for long enough to commend his taste in sports teams, and Thor looked like he wanted to hug the kid. Clint felt someone nudge his foot under the table and looked up. Darcy caught his eye.

“ _Thank you,_ ” Darcy mouthed.

Clint nodded, his chest tightening. Great. Just fucking great.

 

“Thank you for having me over. It was nice to meet all of you,” Jack smiled, waving at the room in general.

          “I’ll walk you out,” Darcy said, squeezing his hand.

          On the porch, Jack turned to her.

          “Thank you for coming tonight,” Darcy gave a small smile. “I know it was awkward and uncomfortable and completely terrible but it meant a lot-“

          “Darcy,” Jack interrupted, dropping her hands. “I can’t do this anymore. You’re a sweet girl and all, but you aren’t anything like what Trey told me.”

          “Trey…” Darcy thought. “T-the guy I made out with at the homecoming party?”

          “When he heard you weren’t with anybody, he gave me your number. I mean, I thought it was worth it. You sounded cool, and he said you were great in bed. But, Jesus. He never told me you came with a crazy Russian lady, an overgrown body builder, and two sets of fags,” Jack huffed.

          Darcy recoiled like she’d been slapped. “What? Those are my friends, you asshole!”

          Jack smirked. “Kinda tells you something, huh?”

          Before she realized what she was doing, Darcy’s fist made contact with his jaw. She put a surprising amount of force behind it, and Jack stumbled, tripping over his own feet and smacking against the porch rail.

          “Fuck!” he spat. “Crazy bitch.”

          “Get the fuck out of here,” she ordered, her voice scary. “Or so help me god, I will find a baseball bat.”

          Jack stumbled to his car, shooting glares at Darcy. He threw himself behind the wheel and tore out of the driveway, laying on his horn. When his taillights disappeared, Darcy’s went back inside, closing the door carefully. She could hear the voices drifting in from the dining room, and she felt a surge of rage for the way Jack had talked about them. She slid down the door to sit on the wood floor, burying her face against her knees. She bit her lip to hold back the sobs, but the tears stung at her eyes.

          “Darcy! What happened?” Steve’s voice was panicked.

          Darcy shot to her feet. “What happened? What always happens, Steve? I got screwed. This time, it happened to be a lot less enjoyable.”

          Steve’s face fell. “Honey-“

          “I’m fine,” Darcy squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m just going to go to sleep. Thanks for dinner. After everyone stopped interrogating my date, it was actually kind of nice.”

          Darcy started for the stairs just as everyone else wandered into the living room.

          “Back so soon?” Tony asked. “I thought you’d be making out on the porch for at least ten minutes.”

          The look on Darcy’s face shut him up in an instant.

          “Oh my god, what happened?” Tony demanded. “Is he still out there?”

          “I’ll kick his ass,” Wade threatened.

          Darcy sighed, looking exhausted. “I’m going to bed.”

          Peter reached out as she passed. “Darce…”

          She shrugged his hand off and continued up the stairs, her steps heavy.

 

          Clint rolled over, his comforter rustling. His eyes roamed the dark room, restless. He sat up in bed. This was ridiculous. There was no way in hell he was going to fall asleep anytime soon. He grabbed blindly for a sweatshirt and pulled on a pair of tennis shoes. A short run would clear his head, then he could sleep. He snagged his house keys off of his dresser and dropped them in his pocket. Clint crept out of his room and down the hall quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible as he made his way downstairs and out the front door. Once outside, he paused to lock the door. Around the corner of the porch, he heard a sniffle. He rounded the corner slowly, spotting Darcy curled up on the porch swing, wearing one of Steve’s old sweatshirts and a pair of pajama pants. Even in the moonlight, with half her face obscured by her hair, Clint could tell she’d been crying for a long time, her eyes swollen and red.

          “Darce?” Clint asked quietly.

          She looked up slowly, wiping her eyes. “Hey.”

          “Do you want to talk about it?” Clint offered.

          Darcy hesitated before making room for him on the swing.

          Clint noticed her bare feet and clicked his tongue, pulling them in his lap. “It’s freezing out here. Where are your shoes? Or socks?”

          Darcy shrugged. “I forgot.”

          “What happened?” Clint prodded gently.

          Darcy smiled sadly. “I got played, Barton. A guy from my…illustrious past got ahold of him and told him just how much fun I could be. Apparently, I wasn’t worth waiting for.”

          Darcy’s voice cracked and Clint’s heart clenched. “He had the balls to say that?”

          Darcy nodded. “And then he insulted everyone. Actually, I think you and Loki were the only ones he didn’t insult.”

          “I really hope you ripped him a new one,” Clint admitted.

          Darcy glanced up at him. “I decked him.”

          Clint gave a surprised laugh. “Nice one. Remind me not to get on your bad side. You can be vicious when you need to be.”

          Darcy bit her lip, the tears welling up in her eyes again. Clint didn’t even hesitate before pulling her into his lap and hugging her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and the tears broke like floodwaters. Clint murmured soothingly into her hair, his hand rubbing circles on her back. It wasn’t how he imagined being with Darcy, but Clint would give his right arm to see her smile right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy balls this chapter turned out really fucking long.   
> Special thanks to katdemon1895 and TheScienceOfProcrastination for plot ideas that were used in this chapter! You guys rock!   
> This chapter ended up being way longer than I meant it to be, but once it was done, I felt like it couldn't be split in half, so I'm sorry. But hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. :)


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Damn! Shit shit shit damn it to hell!”
> 
> Clint raised his eyes to the ceiling at the sound of Darcy’s voice, dropping his newspaper on the counter.

“Damn! Shit shit shit damn it to hell!”

          Clint raised his eyes to the ceiling at the sound of Darcy’s voice, dropping his newspaper on the counter.

          “God damn it, Darcy, get your shit together-ow!” There was a loud crash from above. “So stupid…late for your own funeral…ouch! Little bastard. Where the hell are my keys…gonna kill Peter…button you whore!”

          She came thundering down the stairs and burst into the kitchen in a flurry of brown curls, her toothbrush sticking out of the corner of her mouth. The flannel button-up she’d thrown on over her tank top was inside out, her jeans weren’t zipped, and her socks were two different colors. She flew around the kitchen, oblivious to Clint’s presence. He watched her tug on her boots, stumbling to keep her balance. She grabbed a banana from the basket on the counter and pulled her coat off the hook.

          Clint cleared his throat. “Morning.”

          Darcy shrieked in surprise, throwing the banana at him. It him square in the chest and fell onto the newspaper. Darcy froze with her hand over her mouth.

          “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me,” Darcy snapped.

          He tossed the banana to her. “Sorry. Do you know your shirt’s inside out?”

          Darcy looked down. “Oh. Thanks.”

          Clint nodded and took a sip of his coffee as she fixed it.

          “So why exactly are we not at work?” Darcy asked, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

          “Not sure. Natasha never woke me up to go running this morning,” Clint lied smoothly. “I thought I was alone.”

          Darcy leaned across the breakfast bar. “You sit on a throne of lies.”

          “And you call your buttons whores,” Clint smirked.

          Her eyes narrowed. “That is something that does not leave this room. I shouted that because I thought I was alone.”

          Clint nodded seriously and stood to rinse his cup in the sink. “Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll go to work. No sense in taking both cars.”

          Darcy saluted and stole his seat. Clint left the room to get his boots. He passed a window and caught sight of the porch swing. The events of the night before flickered through his head. He peeked into the kitchen quietly. Darcy was staring into her coffee cup, her face a mixture of sadness and anger. She reached up to adjust her glasses and Clint noticed her hand.

          “Damn, you must’ve gotten him good!” he exclaimed, walking into the kitchen.

          Darcy looked up, startled. “Yeah, I guess.”

          “You should’ve iced it last night. It’ll bruise pretty badly,” Clint warned.

          Darcy shrugged. “I’ve done worse. Hard to believe, but that wasn’t the first time I had to rough up some jerk.”

          Clint leaned back against the sink. “Now I’m intrigued.”

          “When I was little, I had this friend. She was the sweetest girl I’ve ever met, but she got picked on a lot because she was tiny and she wouldn’t tell the teacher if someone was messing with her. One day, I got in trouble for mouthing off and they made me stay inside for recess. My friend came in after, crying her eyes out. Some jackass had pushed her off the monkey bars. I got pissed, and I challenged the kid to a wrestling match on the playground. We went all out. We had an announcer, and a bell-we even had stage names. It was great. I kicked his ass. To this day, people still talk about the legend that was the Darcy “The Dancer” Lewis and Tommy “Twinkle Toes” Newman grudge match.” She smiled fondly at the memory.

          She looked up and caught the soft, teasing look Clint was giving her. “What, you’ve never wrestled with a bully before?”

          “I’ve wrestled with more than my fair share of people,” Clint admitted. “But never under the pseudonym ‘The Dancer.’”

          “It was ballerina phase,” Darcy said defensively.

          Clint held his hands up. “I’m not gonna go there.”

          “Okay, now it’s your turn,” she challenged. “Share an episode of the Adventures of Baby Barton.”

          Clint’s smirk faltered for a second. “When I was about ten, my brother and I ran away to the circus. Hey! No interrupting!” he added, seeing her face. “Anyway, this guy sort of took me under his wing and started training me. His name was Trickshot, and after a couple of months with him, I could use a bow and arrow like I’d been trained since birth. One night, I was up in the rafters, watching the show and I noticed this kid throwing popcorn at a girl a few years younger than him. I got an idea, knight in shining armor that I was, about how to get back at him. I swiped one of the red clown noses from the costume trailer and a little paint from the supply truck. I made a kind of homemade paintball and replaced the tip of a rubber arrow with that. I went back up into the rafters and let it loose. Got the kid right between the eyes. I don’t know how she found out, but after the show the little girl came up and thanked me for pegging her brother.”

          Darcy waited to make sure he was done. “You were in the circus? As an archer?”

          “Marksman,” Clint corrected.

          Darcy gasped. “Show me.”

          Clint hesitated. “I don’t kn-”

          “Show me.”

          “Darce-”

          “Show me!”

          “Darcy-”

          “Please?”

          Damn her.

          “All right. I’ll take you with me the next time I go to the range,” Clint relented. “But right now, we need to get to work.”

 

          “So what are your plans for revenge?” Natasha asked when the two of them had snuck out for a cup of coffee and a chat.

          Darcy sighed. “I haven’t thought about revenge yet. I’m still in the silently angry bordering on depressed stage. Maybe I’ll superglue his car doors shut.”

          “Done it,” Natasha said. “It’s good for a laugh when you get to watch them discover it and break a window to get into their car. We can do better than that, though.”

          Darcy pictured Jack wriggling through the broken window of his car. It sounded pretty satisfying to her.

          “What do you suggest?” Darcy cocked her head to the side,

          The smile that slid across Natasha’s face gave Darcy chills. “Give me a day or two to call in some favors.”

          They stood and tossed their empty cups, then walked back towards the bakery, hunched against the cold wind. Across the street and a few shops down from the bakery, Natasha stopped midstride.

          “Oh dear god,” she groaned.

          “What’s the- who in the name of hot is _that_?” Darcy gasped.

          Natasha covered her face. “Bucky.”

          Darcy looked at her in awe. “No offense, but his name suggested someone who looked like a pudgy dork of a little brother.”

          “The jawline makes up for it,” Natasha admitted.

          “I can’t see his jawline from this angle, but he has the ass of Apollo,” Darcy slapped Natasha on the back. “Go forth and get some on behalf of the entire world.”

          “He isn’t supposed to come to the bakery. If anybody sees him and makes the connection, I will never hear the end of it. I’m going to kick his ass,” Natasha growled.

          “Wait here, in the bookstore,” Darcy instructed. “I’ll get him away from the bakery.”

          She turned to go but Natasha grabbed her wrist. “Tell him ‘pineapples’ and he’ll know it’s me.”

          Darcy nodded and crossed the slushy street. Bucky was faced away from her, leaning against the brick of the bakery’s storefront.

          “Hey. Tall, dark, and sexy,” she called. “Your girlfriend requests your presence in the bookstore. Oh. Pineapples.”

          Bucky grinned. “You must be Darcy.”

          “The one and only,” she winked. “But really, you should go before she comes up with a way to kill you from across the street.”

          Darcy watched him go, admiring the view, before ducking into the bakery. It was quiet and Clint was behind the counter, two things that usually only happened in an emergency situation.

          “Did someone die?” Darcy asked.

          He didn’t bother to look up from the cash drawer. “Ha. Funny. Tony kidnapped Peter for the afternoon, Thor and Loki are on a delivery, Steve ran to the warehouse, and Bruce is next door flirting with the florist.”

          “Betty? Wow. Go Bruce.” Darcy plopped down on a stool behind the counter. “Have we got another night of frosting till we drop?”

          “Negative. I’m declaring a movie night. _Forrest Gump_ , tonight,” Clint announced. “Feel free to join in.”

          Darcy laughed. “Fun fact: that was my favorite movie of all time in high school.”

          Clint handed her a broken cookie. “I approve.”

          “Yes! Finally I can die happy! Do you hear that world? He approves!” Darcy threw her head back. “Thank the powers that be!”

          “Eat your cookie, smartass,” Clint chuckled.

 

          That evening, Peter was sitting on the couch in the living room reading, Wade sprawled across his lap, when the door burst open. He looked over at Darcy, who wore a pair of dark aviators, even though the sun had gone down at least an hour ago. She held a plastic grocery bag in one hand.

          “Lieutenant Dan!” she screamed, closing the door with her foot.

          Upstairs, Clint stopped his conversation with Natasha midsentence, breaking into a grin. He threw himself down the hall and leaned over the banister.

          “Ice cream!” he yelled.

          “Lieutenant Dan!” Darcy’s voice was thick with the accent.

          Clint copied it. “Ice cream!”

          Darcy ripped off her shades and held the bag above her head. “Lieutenant Dan, ice cream!”

          “Ice cream!” Clint shrieked.

          He then proceeded to throw one leg over the rail and slide down the banister, landing with a shocking amount of grace at the bottom. Darcy erupted into laughter.

          “Oh my god, you are such a child,” she gasped out, holding her sides.

          “Yes,” Clint agreed. “But it’s part of my masculine charm.”

          Darcy shook her head. “Lieutenant Dan, would you put this in the freezer?”

          Clint took the bag from her and walked into the kitchen, throwing a sloppy salute as he left. Darcy watched him walk away, grinning. She turned, pulling off her jacket and noticed Peter and Wade staring at her, Wade upside down.

          “What?” she felt her cheeks heating up.

          “Did you just-” Peter stuttered.

          Wade blinked. “Every time I watch that movie now, I will have the image of Clint sliding down the banister stuck in my head. You two are the reason I start laughing at the serious parts of movies, I swear to god.”

          “Eh, you know you love me,” Darcy teased.

          She hurried up the stairs, her shoes in her hands.

          Wade shifted to look at Peter. “I ship it.”

          Peter laughed and returned to his book.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realize that I've been focusing a lot on the Clint/Darcy storyline in the past few chapters, and I promise you'll get more of the other characters in the next chapter. (For the Clarcy lovers, don't worry. I gotchu.)  
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to katdemon1895 for another wonderful idea. (Betty & Bruce)  
> Also bless your collective faces for reading.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony touched his ear. “Steve, listen. He’s humming. Have you ever heard him hum before, because I’ve known him for a decade and I cannot remember a single time that I heard him humming. I think he’s sick.”
> 
> Steve smiled and glanced over at Bruce. “Oh, he’s sick all right.”
> 
> Tony’s brow furrowed as Steve swiped a piece of bacon from his plate. “What is it? The flu? Malaria? Why didn’t he tell us?”
> 
> “Tony, he’s fine,” Steve assured him. “He’s in love. Or, at the very least, he’s in lust.”
> 
> Tony made a face. “Ew.”

Tony sat at the kitchen table with a piece of bacon frozen halfway between his plate and his mouth. He was staring at Bruce with a mixture of fear and wonder in his eyes. Bruce, of course, was oblivious, fixing himself a cup of tea with a smile on his face, humming as he worked. Steve wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later, his hair damp from the shower. He caught sight of Tony and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

          “Why are you staring at Bruce like that?” he asked.

          Tony touched his ear. “Steve, listen. He’s _humming_. Have you ever heard him hum before, because I’ve known him for a decade and I cannot remember a single time that I heard him humming. I think he’s sick.”

          Steve smiled and glanced over at Bruce. “Oh, he’s sick all right.”

          Tony’s brow furrowed as Steve swiped a piece of bacon from his plate. “What is it? The flu? Malaria? Why didn’t he tell us?”

          “Tony, he’s fine,” Steve assured him. “He’s in love. Or, at the very least, he’s in lust.”

          Tony made a face. “Ew.”

          “Hey!” Steve knocked him in the shoulder. “Do you have something you need to tell me, husband?”

          “What are you two scheming over there?” Bruce asked.

          Steve and Tony muttered muddled responses quickly. Bruce sipped his tea quietly and nearly floated out of the room.

          Tony elbowed Steve in the side. “See? He’s sick.”

          Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh, Tony. You’re so clueless.”

          “MIT begs to differ,” he grumbled.

          Steve reached over to muss his hair. “Your liver doesn’t.”

          “That was a phase that I grew out of,” Tony protested.

          Steve arched an eyebrow. “You and I remember Thanksgiving very differently.”

          “That was a holiday, Steve. Holidays don’t count,” Tony insisted.

 

          “Peter, I swear to every god that if I wake up to find you passed out with your cell phone pressed to your ear one more time, I’m blocking Wade’s number from your phone,” Darcy threatened.

          Peter reddened. “He likes it when I read Dr. Seuss.”

          Darcy stared at him. “No.”  
          He started to respond but she slapped her hand over his mouth. “No, Peter! I don’t want to know about Wade’s Dr. Seuss fetish.”

          “That’s not what I meant, Darcy!” Peter squawked. “I meant bedtime stories. Jesus. I don’t even want to know what in your sex life made you think it was a kinky thing.”

          Darcy grinned fondly. “Oh, Jeff. You will be missed.”

          Peter made gagging noises.

          Behind them, someone cleared their throat delicately. “Excuse me?”

          Darcy spun around. “Hi, sorry about that. How can I help you? Wait…Betty?”

          The woman blushed and let her brown hair fall forward. “Good morning, Darcy. How are you?”

          “I’m well, thanks. You look nice. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out from behind that green smock. Wow, you have incredible calves,” Darcy admired.

          Betty smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you. Actually, I have a lunch date.”

          Peter’s eyes widened. “Really? Good for you! Who is it?”

          “Bruce,” she answered simply.

          The bakery went silent.

          “What?” Darcy choked out finally.

          The door from the kitchen swung open.

          “Betty!” Bruce grinned. “You look lovely. Are you ready?”

          She nodded and took the arm he offered, the two of them waltzing out of the bakery with smiles a mile wide. Darcy looked at Peter, who shook his head.

          “I didn’t even know Bruce was interested in her!” Darcy gasped.

          Peter gazed at the door. “They did make a cute couple.”

          “Of course they did. It’s like a lamb falling in love with a bunny on a cloud of cotton candy where the air is made of sunshine and every time someone smiles a million puppies appear,” Darcy grimaced. “It makes me sick.”

          “Hey, Bitter Barbie? You okay?” Peter nudged her shoulder.

          Darcy shook herself. “Yeah, I’m good. Moment over.”

          “So,” Peter said, pulling a stack of unfolded boxes from under the counter. “Your birthday is coming up. What do you want?”

          She shrugged. “I don’t know. The will to live? A life purpose, maybe? Clear skin?”

          Peter dropped the boxes on the counter. “Seriously, Darcy, what’s up? You’ve never exactly been Suzy Sunshine but you’re especially dark today. Talk to me. I’m worried about you.”

          Darcy waved him away. “No, no, nothing’s wrong! I’m just being an asshole. I think I need some caffeine. We’re really slow, do you think you can hold down the fort while I run out for coffee? I’ll be fast, I promise. Do you want something?”

          “No, I don’t want anything. Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter asked again.

          Darcy flashed him the brightest smile she could muster and retreated to the sidewalk as fast as she could.

 

          “Lunch was very nice, Bruce,” Betty smiled sweetly. “We should do it again sometime.”

          Bruce nodded. “I’d like that very much. Maybe we could get dinner next time. Or go to a movie. Do you like movies?”

          “I do!” Betty bobbed her head. “You know, the show some of the classics every weekend at that little theatre a few blocks from here. This week is a Greta Garbo double feature. Would you like to go? With me?”

          “I’d love to, Betty. Maybe we could talk about it at lunch tomorrow?” Bruce suggested timidly.

          Her face brightened. “Of course! Oh, shoot! I’m late for a consultation. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow!”  
          Betty hurried toward the flower shop, shouting an apology before she was halfway through the door. Bruce nearly swooned right there on the sidewalk. He cut through the alley between the shop and the bakery. If he went through the back door, he wouldn’t have to see the shocked looks on his coworkers’ faces and they wouldn’t see the blush he was sure was coloring his cheeks. He turned the corner and nearly tripped over Darcy, who was huddled on the back stoop.

          Bruce was instantly on red alert. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

          Darcy sniffled. “I’m fine. Peachy keen and all that.”

          Bruce sat down next to her on the cold cement. “You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve been crying.”

          “I haven’t been crying. I’ve been…tearing up slightly,” Darcy mumbled lamely.

          “What’s this about?” Bruce urged her.

          Darcy looked up at him, her eyes red. “You don’t want to hear about this. You’re happy and smiley and floating on a freaking cloud and I’m mopey and dark. I’ll bring you down.”  
          Bruce shook his head. “Not possible. I’m feeling invincible right now.”

          Darcy smiled faintly. “Good for you. I’m glad you have someone who makes you feel that way.”

          Instantly, Bruce got it. “That’s what this is about.”  
          Sure, Darcy had put on a brave face after the incident with Jack. It had been a week since all hell had broken loose, and the entire time, Darcy had made jabs about it, acting aloof for the most part. Even he, the master of disguising your feelings, hadn’t realized what was going on. True, he had been preoccupied with his budding feelings for Betty, but he couldn’t help a pang of guilt. She was hurting and she had every right to be. What Jack had done was terrible and a lot of people- Bruce included- would still be hiding under the covers if it had happened to them. Bruce was overcome by a wave of pride in Darcy’s strength and grief at the realization that she was strong because she put through things like this frequently.

          “Oh!” Bruce hugged her tightly.

          Darcy let out a noise of surprise. “Um…Bruce? Too tight. I can’t breathe.”

          Bruce pulled back. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. Now answer me honestly, Darcy. Are you okay?”

          She was quiet for a moment, looking away. “No. Not right now, I’m not. I will be, though. I always am.”

          Before he could reach out and stop her she was on her feet, walking into the kitchen. He stood and followed her, but the kitchen was empty save for Steve and a few dozen batches of cupcakes.

          “Did Darcy come through here?” Bruce asked.

          Steve nodded, not looking up from his task. “Yeah, just a second ago. How was lunch?”

          Bruce flushed. “Good. Very good.”

          Steve turned his head to flash Bruce a smile. “Glad to hear it. Betty’s a nice girl.”

          “Yeah,” Bruce sighed wistfully. “She is, isn’t she?”

         

          After the conversation with Bruce, Darcy had retreated to Clint’s balcony. He was with Natasha meeting a high profile client for a consultation so she had the area to herself. She pulled out a brick of gumpaste and kneaded it on the table, working it until it was easier to mold. She pulled out the flower cutter and set to work making sugar poinsettias for the upcoming Christmas rush. Just as she always did, she lost herself in the work, loving the way the flowers formed out of shapeless blobs. She didn’t hear Peter come up to check on her twice, nor did she hear Steve ask Peter if she was okay. She noticed Clint’s arrival on the balcony only because he sat down across from her and took the texture tool out of her hand. She looked up in surprise.

          “So,” Clint said casually. “Do you want to tell me why you’re hiding up here making hundreds of flowers or do I have to guess?”

          She reached for another chunk of gumpaste and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m just trying to get ahead of the Christmas rush. You and Natasha were saying how you always ended up working extra hours around Christmas just to keep up with the number of flowers you needed.”  
          Clint reached across the table and put his hands on top of hers. “Darcy.”

          “You’re crushing the petals,” she muttered.

          “Look at me,” he commanded.

          Darcy raised her head, shooting one hell of a glare in his direction. “Let go. Your hands are cold.”

          He shook his head. “Nope. Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

          “What is with you and Peter and Bruce today?” She snapped. “I’m perfectly fine. This is normal Darcy behavior. I get snippy, I have an attitude, I have a dark outlook on life, and sometimes I want to be alone with my work.”

          Clint narrowed his eyes. “Not like this. I haven’t seen you smile all week.”

          Darcy forced a cheesy smile. “There, now leave me alone.

          He opened his mouth to speak but he was cut off by a shout from Natasha.

          “Darcy! Get down here fast!” she yelled.

          Alarmed, Darcy rushed down the ladder, skipping a few rungs along the way. “What is it? What happened?”

          Natasha grabbed her by the arm and hauled her behind the counter. “Stand here and act natural.”

          She stared at Natasha like she’d starting speaking Latin. “What the hell?”

          The door to the bakery opened and a grin spread across Natasha’s face. She elbowed Darcy sharply. Darcy turned to look at the customer and gasped.

          “Oh my god! What the hell are you wearing?” she slapped a hand over her mouth.

          In the middle of the store, Jack shifted his weight awkwardly, something he had a bit of trouble with in his six-inch stilettos. The very short, low-cut strappy dress he wore stretched across his broad chest. His face was smeared with make up, red lipstick swiped on from ear to ear. Even his hair had been done up, with a bright blue streak on the right side.

          “Oh…holy hell,” Darcy choked.

          Jack wrung his hands nervously. “I-I came to apologize for what I did to you. I’m…I’m sorry. It was mean, and it was wrong, and you deserve better than that. I was an ass to presume that just because I talked to you you’d want to have sex with me, and because I did I’m…I’m going to spend a day walking in your shoes. I hope you forgive me, but I understand if you don’t. I’m going to leave now, and I’ll never bother you again.”  
          He turned and tottered out of the store, nearly busting his ass when he caught his heel on the threshold. Darcy stared at his retreating figure, her jaw hanging open in shock. Natasha walked over to the door and flipped the lock.

          “What the fuck was that?” Darcy gasped out.

          “ _That_ ,” Natasha grinned, “was your revenge. I was going to wait and do it the day before your birthday, but Peter called and said you were having a rough day. Feel any better?”

          Darcy nodded numbly. “Yes, actually.”

          “If it helps, Wade promised to follow him and shout crude things,” Peter said. “He offered to try to proposition him, too, if you’re interested in that.”

          Darcy stared at the door silently, dropping onto a stool. Natasha, Peter, and Clint watched her anxiously, waiting for her to burst into tears or something. She covered her face with her hands and Peter stiffened, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. A second later she dropped her hands and burst into laughter, holding her sides. The others flinched in surprise. Darcy lost her balance and slipped off the stool, landing hard on the floor. She stayed where she was, dying laughing.

          Peter looked up at Natasha. “I think we fixed her.”

          Natasha nodded in agreement.

          Darcy started to gain control of herself and wiped her eyes. “Oh, god, he made the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen!”

         


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Darcy forced herself out of bed and struggled with her eyes closed to pull on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, she was really wishing she had a secret stash of alcohol in her room.

  
When Darcy forced herself out of bed and struggled with her eyes closed to pull on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, she was really wishing she had a secret stash of alcohol in her room. She’d been lucky enough not to have classes before noon through the entirety of her college life, so waking up early to work at the bakery just about every morning was beginning to catch up with her. She stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Bruce thoughtfully passed her a cup of coffee.   
Darcy drank greedily, glancing out the window. “At least it isn’t snowing.”  
“I wouldn’t hold onto that thought,” Tony said, shifting his newspaper to look at her. “There’s a snowstorm due sometime in the next few days. No one can be sure of much except that it’s going to be a big motherfucker.”  
“That’s reassuring,” she grumbled sleepily.  
Peter tossed her an apple from the bowl on the counter. “I don’t know why you’re so against snow, Darcy. I swear, it’s like you were jumped by Jack Frost when you were a kid or something.”  
“It is too early for your judgy bullshit, Peter Parker. Too early,” Darcy warned.   
Natasha swept into the room, looking like she’d been up for hours. “I just got off the phone with our dairy supplier. Because of the storm that’s coming in, they’re pulling all of their trucks off the road tomorrow afternoon. When we get to the bakery, I need everyone to help track the supplies so I can get an emergency order in by noon.”  
Tony saluted her with a piece of toast. “As you wish, madam.”  
Natasha swiped the other piece of toast from his plate and pointed at Darcy. “You’re with me, kiddo. We’ve got a meeting with Professor Fury in half an hour. Grab your coat.”  
Darcy followed orders, but couldn’t help the inkling of worry that crept into her mind. “I’m not in trouble, am I? We aren’t, like, on our way to my hanging are we?”  
Natasha laughed and ushered her outside. “No, nothing like that. Fury called me a couple of days ago and asked me to bring you in today to discuss the terms of your probation.”  
Darcy froze in her tracks. “What?”  
“Don’t worry, Darcy. They’ll be changing for the better, I promise you that,” Natasha said as she unlocked the car.  
Darcy all but fell into her seat and gripped the door handle tightly. They drove in silence for few minutes before Natasha glanced over at the intern.   
“Hey,” her voice was soft. “I promise, it’ll be okay. I won’t let them throw you under the bus.”  
Darcy smiled nervously. “I know you won’t. It’s just that, the last time I was in a meeting discussing the terms of my probation, I may or may not have gotten in a bit of an...argument with Professor Fury.”  
“Oh?” Natasha arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve known Fury for a long time. He tends to respect the people who have the gall to stand up to him.”  
Darcy bit her lip. “How does he feel about people who possibly, shall we say, ‘tangoed’ with his secretary?”  
Natasha couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that escaped her. “You what?”  
“It was stupid. Professor Fury laid down the law and then tried to dismiss me without letting me defend myself, and I got upset. He buzzed his secretary to have her escort me out, and I reacted without thinking. I would’ve felt bad about it, too, had I actually hurt Ms. Hill, but she held her own. After Fury broke us up, he actually listened to my side of the story, so I guess it was worth it,” Darcy sighed.  
Natasha shook her head, grinning proudly. “Oh, God love you, Darcy Lewis.”  
  
Tony pushed aside the stack of invoices on his desk and opened his laptop. He worked quickly, glancing at the clock every few minutes to make sure he wasn’t cutting the time too closely. T-minus two minutes before the scheduled time, Clint slipped into his office.   
Tony glanced up at him. “Are you sure about this?”  
Clint nodded once. “I have to at least hear him out.”  
Tony sighed. “All right. You’re all set. You want me to stick around?”  
“That’s not necessary, but thank you,” Clint smiled.  
Tony hesitated before moving toward the door. Clint followed him and locked the door, then took a seat behind the desk to wait for the call.  
  
“Miss Lewis, Ms. Romanoff, please come in and have a seat,” Professor Fury gestured to the chairs across from his desk.   
Natasha sent Darcy an encouraging look as they took their seats and Darcy smiled gratefully.   
Once they were all settled comfortably, Fury folded his hands on his desk. “So, Miss Lewis, I hear you have been doing remarkably well at the bakery these past couple of months. Is that correct?”  
“It is, sir,” she confirmed.  
“And are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.  
Darcy thought for a moment he was joking. “Um... yeah, I have a lot of fun at the bakery. The work is always interesting and the people I’m working with have taught me a lot. Not only about their trade but also about life in general. I like to think I’m a better person for having spent so much time with them.”  
Fury studied her for a moment. “Why do you say that, Miss Lewis?”  
“Well, we’ve come to be more like a family than just coworkers. I’m sure you’re aware that Mr. Stark purchased a large estate recently and that he extended an invitation to not only his permanent coworkers, but also Peter and I to live there with him. In the time I’ve worked and lived with these people, I’ve grown close to all of them, and I’d guess they feel the same way about me. They recently helped me through a bit of a rough patch in my personal life, and when Peter was attacked a while back, Mr. Stark and Mr. Rogers both took care of him as if he was their own child,” Darcy told him.  
“And, Miss Lewis, do you think in the time you’ve spent with them, that you have learned the lesson I wished for you to learn when I laid out the guidelines of your probation?” Fury inquired.  
Darcy glanced down at her hands. “You told me that in order for me to be released of my probation, I needed to show that I was capable of stepping up and taking responsibility when I’m needed, not just when I want to be. In all honesty, sir, there isn’t any part of the job, nor any person working at the bakery that I wouldn’t do absolutely anything for, so I don’t think it would be fair for me to say that I’ve learned my lesson.”  
“Well, that’s all I needed to hear,” Fury said, straightening.  
He pulled a slim folder from the wire rack behind his desk and flipped it open. He signed something inside of it and passed the folder to Darcy.  
“It was good to see you, Miss Lewis. You, too, Ms. Romanoff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an important video conference scheduled in just a few minutes. I trust you can see yourselves out?” Fury stood to shake their hands.  
After Natasha closed the door behind them, Darcy stopped walking, leaning against the wall, the folder clutched tightly in her hands. Natasha took her by the elbow and led her down the hall and out to the car.   
“Don’t worry about it, Darcy,” Natasha tried to soothe her. “If it was something terrible, he would’ve told you face to face. Trust me, I’ve seen Professor Fury handle his students before.”  
“I’m such an idiot,” Darcy moaned. “Why couldn’t I have just said I’d learned my lesson?”  
“You have learned your lesson, Darcy,” Natasha said softly.  
Darcy lifted her head to look at the redhead.  
“Don’t look so surprised,” Natasha smiled wryly. “Personally, I think you learned your lesson the first day you came to us. From practically the moment you introduced yourself, you’ve been willing to do just about anything to help us all. Do you remember the wedding cake that you, Peter, and I had to remake? Or the time you stayed until three in the morning helping Bruce bake cookies for a charity auction? What about the countless times you’ve volunteered to go on supply runs or deliveries because we needed an extra person, even if it meant canceling your own plans? I’d say you’ve more than learned to step up to the plate.”  
Darcy was quiet for the rest of the ride. When Natasha pulled to a stop next to the curb outside the bakery, she looked over at the younger girl.  
“Do you need to take a minute to yourself?” she asked.  
Darcy shook her head. “No, I’m good.”  
Peter met them at the door, looking as nervous as Darcy felt. “How did it go?”  
She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”  
“What’s in the folder?” he poked at the thick paper.  
“I’m kind of scared to look,” she admitted.  
Natasha patted her on the shoulder. “Open it, Darcy. I gave a good feeling about the meeting.”  
Darcy took a deep breath before flipping open the folder. Her eyes scanned the first page quickly, catching on a few important fews. She hurriedly flipped through the couple of other sheets behind it before looking up triumphantly at Peter and Natasha.   
“Oh my god,” she gasped out.  
“What?” Peter’s forehead scrunched in concern.  
Darcy flipped the folder around. “They’re releasing me from my probation, and they’re increasing my scholarship money!”  
“‘For the service and initiative you have shown the community, the university, and the business of the Shield Bakery, we would like to congratulate you for receiving the Erskine Memorial Scholarship.’ It says here that the scholarship is awarded to students exhibiting the traits of honor, duty, integrity, and independence. This is amazing, Darcy!” Peter laughed.  
Natasha pulled Darcy into a hug. “Congratulations, kiddo. You deserve it.”  
Their hug was cut short by Tony walking into the room, his face drawn and serious.   
“Tony, what happened?” Natasha demanded, immediately alert.  
He glanced between Darcy and Peter and gestured for her to join him up on the balcony. She followed, giving the interns orders to head into the kitchen to lend a hand.   
“What’s going on, Tony?” she crossed her arms and leaned against the glass doors.  
He rubbed a hand over his face. “I got a call from the Department of Defense this morning, and about an hour after that, I received a request for a video conference with Barton. He’s with them right now in my office.”  
Natasha’s face hardened. “How could they do that to him? Are they calling him back into the field? And what the hell is the DOD doing involving themselves in a mission?”  
“They aren’t involved directly,” Tony corrected her. “They received some alarming intel, and passed it on to someone at the agency, who then arranged for a meeting with Clint.”  
She bit her lip. “Do you think he’ll take the mission?”  
“I think,” Tony sighed, “that if they can make the case personal, he’ll take it without a second thought.”  
Natasha’s head snapped up. “Not Barney.”  
“I wish I could say they were above that, but we both know better than that,” Tony said cynically.   
“He has a civillian life now, Tony. He can’t just pack up and disappear like he used to. He has friends. He has a family,” she spat out.  
Tony put a hand on her shoulder. “Nat, he’s a grown man. We can’t make this decision for him. If he chooses to go with them, it’ll be a tough decision, but we need to support him.”  
“I know,” Natasha breathed. “The last time....the last time he left on a mission, he almost died. I thought I was never going to see him again. He was in that hospital for almost three months, and it wasn’t until the last couple weeks of that that anyone was even remotely confident that he was going to pull through. I can’t go through that again. I can’t watch my best friend die.”  
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Tony responded quietly.  
  
That evening, Tony and Steve left the bakery early for a dinner with the governor. Wade showed up to steal Peter shortly after, and Bruce bowed out about the same time, meeting Betty on the sidewalk. Natasha waved goodbye as she dashed out to meet Bucky. The bakery was left in the somewhat capable hands of Thor, Darcy, Loki, and an unusually quiet Clint.   
“I say we order pizza and have a flower making contest,” Darcy proposed.  
Thor laughed heartily. “I fear I would most assuredly lose that competition. My fingers are not quite suited to such a delicate art. I prefer molding the metal armatures needed to support the more elaborate creations. I am quite talented with a hammer.”  
“I’m sure you are, big guy,” Darcy winked.  
Loki laughed lightly. “I, on the other hand, am quite good at making flowers and I accept your challenge.”  
“How about you, master decorator? You up for a steel cage match?” Darcy nudged him.   
He started, having been lost in thought. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”  
“Come help me gather the supplies,” Darcy asked.  
He followed her up the ladder and headed for the shelves of tools. When he turned back, Darcy was studying him carefully, her arms crossed over her chest.   
“What’s wrong?” she asked him bluntly.  
“Nothing,” he replied automatically.  
The look on her face clearly said she didn’t believe him.   
Clint backtracked. “I just got a call this morning that was a little unsettling. It’s no big deal, it’s just a lot to think about.”  
Darcy seemed to accept this. “Okay. If you need to talk, you know where I am.”  
He smiled gratefully, knowing she meant it. “Thanks, Dancer.”  
“You’re never going to forget that, are you?” she laughed.  
“Not a chance in hell,” he confirmed.   
Back on the ground floor, Loki had cleared space on one of the tables.  
“All right, here’s how it’s going to work,” Darcy began. “We’re going to see who can make the most poinsettias in five minutes. Thor, you can keep time and count the flowers after time runs out. Each flower has to be completed to be counted. Deal?”  
Clint and Loki both accepted the terms and they all took their places, waiting for Thor’s cue. He nodded and they set to work, their hands moving so quickly that they nearly blurred. Clint’s elbow bumped into a can of shortening, sending it to the floor. He cursed, but didn’t spare the time to retrieve it. Darcy’s brow was furrowed as she worked, her fingers working nimbley with the fondant. Loki was the most graceful of the three. He was working at the same pace as the other two, but he made it look effortless and beautiful. It was a good thing Darcy was distracted, or she would have been extremely jealous. Thor called time and everyone’s hands froze as they stepped back from the table. In the end, Clint won by two, with Darcy and Loki tied.   
“All hail the master,” he teased.  
Darcy rolled her eyes and pushed him playfully. “Whatever you say. I’ve only been doing this for a couple of weeks and I only lost by two.”  
“I taught you everything you know,” Clint pointed out.  
Darcy smiled evilly. “Not everything.”  
“And on that note,” Loki broke in, “we’ll bid you two a good evening.”  
After the brothers left, Clint and Darcy spent a few minutes cleaning up the remains of the competition before packing up to go home. Clint was switching off the lights when a thought struck him.   
“Natasha drove you to work this morning, didn’t she?” Clint said.  
Darcy nodded. “Yeah, why?”  
“Because I rode with Tony. Who is now across town. With the car,” Clint explained.  
Darcy stared at him. “Balls!”  
He laughed in surprise. “What?”  
“Nothing. I hope your boots are made for walking, because it looks like we’re going to have to hoof it home,” Darcy said.   
Clint grabbed his coat off of the hook and slipped it on along with a knit cap as Darcy pulled on her gloves and a red snow hat. Clint held the door for her and made sure to lock it before they trudged toward home.  
“Holy Christ,” Darcy gasped out. “It’s colder than Jack Frost’s nipples out here.”  
Clint chuckled. “Miss Lewis, you have a way with words.”  
“It’s a gift and a curse,” she shot back.   
Clint nudged her with his elbow. “Nat told me about your scholarship. Congratulations. It sounds like a pretty big deal.”  
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. It’s a hell of a lot better than what I thought was going to happen,” she admitted.  
He cocked his head to the side. “What’s that?”  
Darcy flushed. “In all honesty, I really thought I was going to get kicked out. I’ve never really gotten along too well with authority figures, so when I’m forced to meet with them, it usually results in some shitty circumstances for me.”  
“The bakery, was that one of the shitty circumstances?” Clint pressed.  
“No. I think the bakery is the best thing to happen to me since puberty hit,” Darcy replied easily.   
Clint smiled. “Just the bakery, or the people, too?”  
“Yeah, you guys are pretty great, aren’t you?” she teased.  
Clint stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “You know, I thought Natasha had lost her mind when she told us she’d agreed to take on a couple of college interns. I was so sure you two would be nothing but a pain in our collective ass. Now, I can’t believe we went three years without you and Peter. You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”  
Darcy looked at the snowy ground. “It’s nice to hear.”  
They were quiet for a while as they walked down the street, the stars blotted out by the streetlamps. The scenery started to change, and instead of businesses, they were passing houses. Darcy paused at the end of a driveway where a truck was parked, a large boat hooked to the back.   
“Who the hell has their boat out in the winter? Aren’t you supposed to store them?” Darcy flapped her hand at the snow covered monstrosity.  
“Technically, the bay wouldn’t be frozen this time of year. If the person was willing to risk the cold and the rough waters, they could go out anytime,” Clint told her.  
“Ah, yes, the master returns,” Darcy joked.  
“Hey, I’m great at boats,” Clint said.  
Darcy let out a snort of laughter and started walking again. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”  
“Why, Darcy Lewis, does boat prowess turn you on?” Clint mocked. “You have a ship fetish, don’t you? Oh, take me now sailor!”  
Darcy howled at his dramatic demonstration of a swooning woman. “I do not have a ship fetish. That’s not to say I haven’t had my way with a pirate or a mermaid or two.”  
Clint raised an eyebrow. “Now I’m curious.”  
“Halloween, 2009,” she explained. “I went as a treasure chest.”  
“How exactly does that work?” Clint asked.  
Darcy grinned. “You stuff your bra with gold plastic coins and paint a red X on your chest.”  
Clint laughed. “Very creative.”  
“Hey, Black Beard and Ariel bought it,” Darcy shrugged.   
“Fair point,” he nodded.  
They both chuckled to themselves. At that moment, Darcy looked up and realized that something was different.  
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she shouted, half laughing. “It’s snowing!”  
“Darce, it snowed last week. Plus, I thought you hated snow,” Clint pointed out.   
“Yes, but this is special snow! This is almost-birthday snow!” Darcy said excitedly.  
Clint grinned at the childish glow of happiness on her face.  
“It’s good luck to get snow on your birthday,” Darcy told him. “It means a year of happiness and good fortune.”  
She turned toward him excitedly and caught the look on his face. It made her heart beat faster and her mouth go dry. She subconsciously ran her tongue over her lips and she saw his eyes flick down at the action. The soft look he’d had just a moment ago was replaced with something much more intense. She could practically feel his gaze on her face. Clint took a step forward and before he could make a move, Darcy had risen onto the balls of her feet, her lips finding his easily. His lips were chilled from the winter air, and she shivered at the soft pressure of his mouth on hers. His hands slipped around her waist, pulling her closer. The heat from their bodies mingled as their lips moved against each other. It was a long moment before Darcy dropped back to her heels, breaking the kiss. Clint kept his hands on her waist.  
He looked down at her, noticing the excited flush that colored her cheeks.   
“Well, that was a surprise.”  
“I like surprises,” Darcy murmured.   
“Me, too, Darcy,” Clint said, brushing a short kiss across her lips. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold onto your pants guys. We're gonna hit a bit of turbulence next chapter.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bring it! It’s my birthday. I can handle anything,” Darcy announced.

**“Good morning, birthday girl!” Peter sang, walking into the bakery, one hand behind his back.**  
     Darcy looked up from the cupcake she was icing and smiled. “Thanks, Peter. What have you got there?”  
     “Oh,” he shrugged, “Nothing that would really interest you. Just a present.”  
     “A present?” Darcy set aside the piping bag. “Lay it on me.”  
    Peter dropped a purple bag on the counter and turned to hang his coat up. He heard the bag crinkle as Darcy ripped it open. Before he could turn back around, Darcy had tackled him into a hug.  
     “You are my favorite kind of person, Peter Parker!” she shouted gleefully.  
     Tony sauntered into the room, his first of many coffees clutched in his hands. “Why are we excitedly yelling?”  
    “Because Peter is the greatest. He got me a new copy of The Breakfast Club,” Darcy exclaimed happily. “The last copy got a little banged up after drunk Peter tried to use is as a plate for his pizza.”  
     Peter flushed. “Are we still telling that story?”  
     “Of course we are. It’s hilarious,” Darcy smirked.  
     Tony, not to be outdone, held out a bag with a flourish of his hand. “My gift to you.”  
     Darcy reached inside and pulled out a flashy, custom-made birthday crown. “Holy shit. Thanks, Tony.”  
     “Put it on,” he told her.  
     She settled it carefully on her head and struck a pose. Peter and Tony clapped obligingly. Tony rummaged in the bag and pulled out a sash.  
     Darcy slipped it on and looked down. “‘It’s my birthday, bitch.’ I like it.”  
     “Thought you might,” Tony winked.  
     The front door of the bakery opened, Clint and Natasha struggling against the wind to get inside.  
     “Jesus, it’s windy,” Clint muttered. “Have you guys seen the amount of snow coming down out there?”  
     Natasha brushed a few flakes from her hair. “I lived in Russia for most of my life, and I think the snow’s ridiculous.”  
     Clint chuckled and moved to hang up his coat next to Peter’s. He made a point of reaching around Darcy so that their faces were only a few inches apart.  
     “Happy birthday, Darce,” he said with a smile.  
     She struggled to keep herself from blushing. They hadn’t told anyone about what had happened on their walk home the week before. They were constantly sneaking off for time alone, but neither of them was exactly comfortable with broadcasting their budding relationship to the entirety of the bakery. Natasha, sneaky woman that she was, had already figured it out. Peter and Wade had seen them sneaking out together a couple of nights before and put two and two together. No one said anything, mostly because they knew it wasn’t their place to spread the news. However, it was beginning to be a bit tedious not to act like a couple around everyone else.  
     Clint cocked his head toward the door. “A year of happiness and good fortune.”  
     She grinned. “I guess so. Not to mention a sash and a crown.”  
     Clint looked down at her sash. “I like it.”  
     Steve bustled in from the kitchen, his hands apron already coated with a light dusting of flour. “Loki just called from the truck. The radio is predicting a blizzard tonight.”  
     “Bring it! It’s my birthday. I can handle anything,” Darcy announced.  
  
     A few hours later, Clint was given command of the interns and he set them to work in the decorating balcony. Darcy was assigned the task of making the sugar lilies for a wedding order, while Peter was put in charge of cutting out a few hundred leaves from sheets of green fondant. Clint was piping lace around the edges of the tiers. The work was tedious and made his eyes hurt afterwards, but piping lace was one of his favorite things. It helped him keep his steady hand, and he liked that he was capable of making something so beautiful. When he was working on the lace, he could block out almost anything. He couldn’t hear Natasha thanking the customers who braved the snow for a sugar fix. He couldn’t hear Tony and Steve’s flirtatious banter. He couldn’t hear Darcy and Peter chattering about some movie they’d seen last weekend. He couldn’t even hear the radio, though it was only a couple feet from him.  
     So it took a few calls of his name for Darcy to get his attention. “CLINT!”  
     He flinched, though he managed to pull the piping bag away so he didn’t run the tip through the finished lace. “Shit, you scared me. What is it?”  
     Darcy pointed at the radio. “They just declared a blizzard warning for the entire city. We’re snowed it until at least tomorrow morning.”  
     Clint dropped the icing on the table and moved to the glass doors of the balcony. He pushed aside the curtains and stared out at the blank sheet of white that was the outside world. He heard Darcy call down to Natasha. She swore and her footsteps clicked across the floor as she hurried to the front window.  
     Clint turned to look at Darcy. “I think this means you win the lottery this year.”  
     “Peter!” Tony called from downstairs. “I need your brain for a minute!”  
     Peter brushed his green-tinged hands on his apron and scurried down the ladder.  
     Clint took advantage of the moment.“Hey, while we’re alone, do you want to open your birthday present?”  
     “Hell yes, I do,” Darcy responded, straddling her stool.  
     Clint reached behind his desk and produced a plain brown bag with her name scrawled across the front in blocky black marker. He set it in front of her, pushing aside the drying lilies. Darcy opened the bag and reached inside, her hands brushing what felt like tulle. She carefully took the object out of the bag and her jaw dropped. It was a little wooden jewelry box, with a ballerina in a bright pink tutu on the top. Under the ballerina’s feet, written in delicate cursive, he’d had ‘Dancer’ engraved. Darcy choked out a laugh and opened the box. The theme from Swan Lake began to play and Darcy broke into an all out grin. She carefully set the box down before throwing herself onto Clint’s lap, hugging him tightly.  
     “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She crowed. “I love it!”  
     Clint chuckled. “I can tell. I think this is the most enthusiasm I’ve ever seen you show.”  
     Darcy planted a thankful kiss on his lips. “Well, I love it.”  
     Clint smiled, but it turned sad.  
     “What’s up?” Darcy asked, nudging him with the knee pressed against his right knee.  
     “Darce,” he sighed. “Do you remember last week, when I got that call that I told you about? I’m not saying anything will come of it, but if it does, don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay and I promise I’ll be here for you. Okay?”  
     Darcy’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”  
     Clint shook his head. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Nothing’s going on, and I promise I’ll take care of you.”  
     Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand-”  
     At the sound of footsteps on the ladder, they sprang apart. Darcy ducked her head and picked up a half-finished lily. Clint watched her for a minute, knowing he’d upset her. He contemplated telling her everything, so she would be prepared, but he knew he couldn’t risk her safety. She’d be fine, he told himself, picking up the pastry bag again.  
  
     “ _Happy Birthday to you..._ ”  
     Darcy giggled as everyone sang to her. Steve had insisted she cover her eyes before they brought out the cake, so she wriggled impatiently in her seat as the song dragged on. Tony, little shit, that he was, held the last note for as long as he could manage. Steve gave her permission to look and she dropped her hands into her lap.  
     “Oh my god, you didn’t!” she cackled.  
     Natasha grinned. “We did.”  
     Darcy clutched her sides, glad she was already on the floor. “I can’t breathe!”  
    In the middle of the circle sat Darcy’s glorious birthday cake. It was two round layers, with lilac colored buttercream. Her name was written in gorgeous piping,  thanks to Clint. Everyone had written a little birthday message in icing on the cake.  
      _To many more birthdays.- Loki_  
 _Happy wishes, Lady Darcy!- Thor_  
 _Happy birthday to my drinking buddy, best friend, and roommate. You’re the greatest. -Peter_  
 _It’s your birthday, bitch!- Tony_  
 _Happy birthday to a beautiful, wonderful, intelligent young lady. We love you, Darcy!- Steve_  
 _Happy Birthday, Darcy! I’d be lost without you.- Bruce_  
 _С Днем Рождения миленькие.- Natasha_  
 _Here’s to another year of mayhem. Good luck, Dancer.-Clint_  
     But the most glorious, beautiful, utterly fucking hilarious part of the entire cake was the bright pink sugar penis mounted on the top tier. At the last minute, Tony had decided it need a matching crown, so he made one out of paper and a little of Clint’s edible glitter. Of all the things he had ever created, this was what he was proudest of.  
     Darcy finally regained her composure and wiped at her eyes. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. A work of art, really. I’m not sure if I could ruin this masterpiece by eating it.”  
     “It’s double-fudge,” Steve said.  
     “And that’s why we have cameras. Slice it up, baby!” Darcy slapped her hands together.  
     Unsurprisingly, within the next hour, they demolished the cake, save for the penis. Natasha put it in a plastic bag and stuck it in the refrigerator per Darcy’s request. Tony had produced a couple of six packs from his office, to the surprise of no one, and they all sprawled across the floor in a sloppy circle, drinking and telling stories. It was well after midnight when Tony shuffled to his feet and clapped his hands together excitedly.  
      “Since Peter and I are awesome and because I’m also forgetful, you all have beds tonight,” he announced proudly. “Well, technically they’re hammocks, but that doesn’t matter.”  
     “How in the hell did you manage to McGyver up hammocks?” Clint asked skeptically.  
     “I forgot to take one of the boxes of sheets out of the trunk of the car when we moved. I stowed them in my office when I had to make a delivery and needed the space, and I forgot they were in there. Anyway, I mapped it out, and we can fit one hammock upstairs, plus the couch. Steve and I can share the foldout in my office, and we can easily hang five hammocks out here,” Tony explained.  
     Darcy’s hand shot up. “I call a hammock in the balcony. The doors offer the best view of the snowy depths of hell outside.”  
     “That’s pleasant,” Bruce mumbled, amused.  
     “I’m claiming my couch,” Clint said, swallowing the last of his beer.  
     No one protested Tony’s plan, so he pulled out the box of sheets and showed them all how to tie the ends and how to hang them. With a little help from Thor, Steve, and Loki, all the hammocks downstairs were set up. Darcy gathered up her hammock supplies and climbed up the ladder, waving off the offers of assistance.  
     “No way. This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done, and I’m doing it by myself,” she insisted.  
     A final round of ‘happy birthday’s went up, followed by a round of ‘good night’s. Clint joined Darcy on the balcony, watching her tug on the knots in the sheets to make sure they were secure before climbing in. She tucked her arms under her head and looked over at him.  
     “Jealous of my hammock making skills?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.  
     He laughed. “Very.”  
     She smiled and settled into her cocoon of sheets. “Thanks again for my present. I love it.”  
     “As much as the sugar penis?” Clint raised an eyebrow.  
     She thought about for a second. “It’s a tie.”  
     Clint shook his head and flipped off the light. He waited a moment to let his eyes adjust before he made his way across the room. He leaned over the edge of the hammock, his lips brushing softly against Darcy’s forehead.  
     “Happy birthday, Darcy,” he murmured.  
     She smiled softly, her eyes drifting closed. Blizzard or not, this was easily her best birthday ever.  
  
     The morning dawned bright and cold, but the snow had stopped falling. By some miracle, it appeared that the majority of the snow hadn’t stuck to the ground. There was quite a bit on the ground, but nothing unheard of, and nothing that kept the cars off the road. Darcy, woken by the blinding sunlight shining through the glass doors of the balcony, stumbled out of the hammock, her hair a holy mess. She rubbed her hand over her face and peered around, trying to get a sense of what was going on.  
     Downstairs, she could hear the low murmur of early morning chatter. She could smell coffee brewing in the bakery kitchen, and she was pretty sure she smelled bacon, too. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and looked around the balcony. The couch looked rumped, but it was empty, the sheet Clint had used thrown aside. Darcy climbed down the ladder, letting her nose lead her toward the coffee. The hammocks downstairs had already been taken down, the sheets folded and tucked  back into the box. The kitchen door had been propped open and Darcy could see everyone gathered around one of the prep tables.  
     She stepped into the kitchen and spotted a fresh pot of coffee. She decided  she needed coffee more than she needed to say good morning. After sucking down half a mug of coffee, Darcy made her way over to the table and bumped her hip against Natasha. When the bump wasn’t reciprocated, she looked up, thinking she’d bumped Steve on accident. And that’s when she realized that everyone looked very, very worried. The kitchen was quiet as they all turned toward Darcy. Natasha and Tony exchanged a look. Peter moved from his spot beside Bruce, instead hovering next to Darcy nervously.  
     Her brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”  
     Natasha hesitated before answering. “Darcy...Clint’s gone.”  
     Darcy stared at her in confusion. “Guys, he always goes off on his little adventures. He probably went to play in the snow or get a pizza or something. He’ll be back soon.”  
     “No, Darcy,” Natasha swallowed hard. “The police called a little while ago. They found his body. He’s gone, Darcy. Clint’s dead.”  
     Darcy’s hand went slack, the mug slipping out of her grasp and falling to the floor. The hot coffee washed over her bare feet as the mug shattered, but Darcy didn’t feel it. She stared numbly at Natasha, her brain working to put together the facts. People looking sad, Clint not being there, Natasha’s voice, coffee. Darcy’s head swirled. Peter put a hand on her shoulder and Darcy jerked away.  
     “ _No_ ,” she hissed. “No. You’re wrong.”  
     Tony stepped toward her. “Darcy-”  
     “No!” she screamed. “He’s not! You’re wrong! No!”  
     She stumbled backward, turning to flee into the front room. She scrambled up the ladder and snatched her phone out of her purse, dialing as fast as she could. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. And went to voicemail. Darcy hung it up and hurled at the wall. It broke apart, the screen cracking and the back of the case popping off. She whirled around, looking for something else to throw. Her eyes settled on the jewelry box and she froze for a moment. She reached out and picked it up, cradling it gently in her hands. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at Steve, his eyes filled with sympathy. She realized that she’d started crying, but she didn’t bother to wipe away the tears. There were plenty more coming.  
     She let out a shaky breath and set the box on the table, flipping open the lid. “He said he’d be here for me. He promised, Steve.”  
     Steve pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her. She crumpled in his embrace, clinging onto him gratefully. She cried into his chest, her whole body shaking with sobs. Steve never had to see Darcy and Clint sneak away during the slow parts of the day at work, never needed to glimpse a stolen kiss in the hallway. He’d seen the way Clint looked at her the first day, and he knew they would end up together. He knew how they felt about each other now, and it broke his heart to see them ripped apart like this. So he held onto Darcy tightly and let her cry all her tears, because he knew there was nothing any of them could say or do that would make this okay.  
  
  
     “Is she okay?”  
     Natasha sighed into the phone, remembering the look on Darcy’s face earlier that day. “No. She isn’t. She won’t talk, she won’t eat. She won’t let Steve get more than few yards away from her, which he doesn’t seem to mind. Peter’s a wreck, between both situations. Everyone else feels guilty for not being able to talk about what’s really happening. It’s hard. We’ll manage, though.”  
     “I wouldn’t ask this unless I knew it had to be done.”  
     “I know that. It doesn’t make watching this any easier,” Natasha grumbled.  
     The voice on the other end sighed. “I have to go. I’ll call when I can, I promise.”  
     “Okay,” Natasha said softly. “Be careful out there.”  
     She could hear the smile in his voice. “I always am. Take care of everybody for me. I’ll be home as soon as possible.”  
     “Clint?” Natasha interrupted. “Come home. If for no one else, do it for her. Come home for Darcy.”  
     “I will,” Clint promised, meaning it wholeheartedly.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to katdemon1895 for her ideas of a birthday at the bakery and getting snowed it. I couldn't find anything that gave Darcy's "official" birthday, so I made it the week before Christmas.  
> That's right, you guessed it. After ripping out your hearts and doing the tango with it, you're getting a Christmas chapter.  
> "Deck the halls with boxes of tissues,  
> No no no no NO  
> NO WHY WHY WHY."  
> Anybody excited, or just me?


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas,” Tony sang, peeking into Steve’s studio.  
> Steve looked up from his canvas. “Sometimes, I really think you revert back to being a child.”

_Clint-_  
 _Today’s Christmas Eve._  
 _I hate you for dying._  
 _-Darcy_  
  
     “It’s Christmas, it’s Christmas,” Tony sang, peeking into Steve’s studio.  
     Steve looked up from his canvas. “Sometimes, I really think you revert back to being a child.”  
     “Requesting permission to enter,” Tony said. “I come bearing coffee.”  
     “Permission granted,” Steve waved him in. “I finished your painting last month and it’s hidden away until tomorrow. I’m working on Thor’s right now.”  
     Tony passed him one of the mugs. “I think this is the first Christmas they managed to get out of having to trek all the way out to their parents.”  
     Steve took a sip of coffee. “We’re going to have a full house. Peter invited Wade, Bruce invited Betty, Thor and Loki will be here, and Natasha is finally bringing Bucky home to meet everybody.”  
     “It’s cute how she thinks we don’t know, isn’t it?” Tony smiled, amused.  
     Steve laughed. “It’s her business. I’m just glad she found someone who made her happy.”  
     “Like you found me?” Tony teased, wiggling his eyebrows.  
     Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not stroking your ego, Tony. I’m surprised I’m still coherent. Between the last minute Christmas orders and finishing up everyone’s presents, I think I’m going to have a permanent crick in my neck.”  
     “That I can help you with,” Tony volunteered. “I have magic fingers.”  
     Steve snorted, but bit back his response when Tony’s fingers dug into the sore spot above his right shoulder blade. He teased Tony about his ego, but he really was good at neck massages. Probably because that and foot massages were his go to subtle foreplay techniques. A couple minutes of Tony Stark rubbing out your knots and kinks and you were ready for just about anything.    
     Tony leaned forward, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear. “You know, I think I saw some mistletoe downstairs. You want to go find it with me?”  
    “Who says I need mistletoe? It’s Christmas Eve,” Steve murmured.  
  
 _Clint-_  
 _Peter gave me this stupid notebook and told me to write to you. Apparently, that’s what got him through the death of his parents. It’s weird. This is paper._  
 _I miss you._  
 _-Darcy_  
  
     “I am the best boyfriend ever,” Wade announced when Peter answered his phone.  
     Peter rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Because you woke me up early on Christmas Eve?”  
     “Shut up, you’ll love it. Look out your window,” Wade ordered.  
     Peter stumbled out of bed, tripping over a stack of books and nearly knocking himself out on the edge of his desk. At the window, he pushed aside the curtains and blinked at the stark brightness of the snow-covered world outside.  
     “Ow,” he moaned.  
     “Come on, Parker, open your eyes so you can freak out!” Wade prompted him.  
     Peter blinked once more to clear his vision and looked back outside. “Oh. My. God.”  
     “You like it?” Wade asked proudly.  
     Somehow, presumably in the middle of the night, Wade had built an igloo on the front lawn, complete with two snowmen guarding the door. Wade himself stood between the snow sentinels, one arm thrown out to the side.  
     “Put some pants on and come play with me,” Wade said playfully.  
     Peter dropped his phone on the bed and tugged on a pair of jeans. He pulled a sweatshirt on hastily and scrambled down the stairs, pausing at the door just long enough to tug on his boots and jacket before sprinting out into the snow.

     Wade flung his arms open. “Am I cool or what?”

     Peter tackled him in a hug, sending the both of them tumbling into the snow. Wade laughed as he tried to untangle their limbs. For his part, Peter kept squirming around, making it more difficult.

     Peter planted a sloppy kiss on Wade’s mouth. “You definitely get a prize for the best Christmas present ever.:

     Wade grinned. “Yeah?”

     “I’ve always wanted an igloo,” Peter admitted.

     “I’m happy to oblige. However, I refuse to give Eskimo kisses. I have to draw the line somewhere,” Wade shook his head, trying to be serious.

     Peter shifted so his hands pinned Wade’s wrists to his sides and bent down so their noses brushed. “I’m not letting you up until I get an Eskimo kiss.”

     “Then we’re going to be here for a very long time,” Wade answered stubbornly.

     “I have all the time in the world,” Peter replied dryly.

     Wade narrowed his eyes. “If you tell anyone I did this, I will deny it to my last breath and smash your igloo to bits.”

  
 _Clint-_  
 _I think Bruce and Betty are going to get married. You’d think she was a blast. She’s quiet, but she’s got a hell of a sense of humor. Bruce is so happy around her, it’s almost ridiculous._  
 _I think you’re only supposed to write in these things once a day. Whatever. It isn’t like anyone’s reading it._  
 _-Darcy_  
  
     “Is there anything I can help you with?” Betty asked.  
     Bruce bustled around the kitchen, checking casseroles, testing temperatures, dicing vegetables. When it came to holidays, Bruce was the master chef of the house. His Thanksgiving dinners were legendary, and Christmas Eve dinners were not far behind. The man took his sweet potatoes seriously. Unlike most perfectionists, Bruce welcomed help in the kitchen, especially when ‘help’ came in the form of Betty Ross. To an outside observer, it would have appeared that Bruce and Betty had been cooking together for years. Though every bit of space in the kitchen was being used, they were never in each other’s way. They kept up a stream of conversation that they both seemed to actually enjoy, though it consisted mostly of everyday topics. In all honesty, that was why Bruce liked Betty so much. She was normal.  
     Bruce loved his friends, and he loved his life, but he was the first to admit it was by no means traditional. Betty was the closest to normal Bruce had ever been, and he found that strangely attracting. Plus, she was smart and she liked it when Bruce told her about the experiments he and Tony cooked up. He liked listening to her tell him about the flower shop and the book she was writing in her spare time. He loved that behind her quiet exterior, she had a sharp mind and a quick wit. Sometime during the late morning, Tony had wandered into the kitchen and was cracking jokes. Everyone was shocked when Betty shot back responses that rendered Tony speechless.

“That’s quite a feat, Betty,” Bruce had teased. “I’ve only ever seen a handful of people do that, and I think all of them are in this house.”

  
 _Clint-_  
 _Your Christmas present is in my closet. I wrapped it the day I bought it. I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t exactly leave it at your grave. Natasha said you'd wanted to be cremated. Something about zombies and ghosts._  
 _-Darcy_  
  
     “I got this, Natasha!” Bucky assured her for the fourth time. “I’ve hung out with almost all of them before, and they seemed to like me.”  
     Natasha waved him away. “Yeah, well, they didn’t know we were having sex then.”  
     “Okay, valid point. Did you warn Thor?” Bucky asked.  
     She shot him a look.“Why would I have warned him? To give him more time to decide which weapon to use to chop your balls off?”  
     Bucky held out a rather large package wrapped in red paper. “In case they kill me, open your present now.”  
     She rolled her eyes. “They probably won’t kill you, Bucky. It’s fine, let’s go in.”  
     He blocked her way. “Open it. Please?”  
     She huffed before tearing the paper off and opening the box. She looked into the box and laughed. Inside was a mish mash of objects and trinkets. Natasha pulled out a bottle of Russian vodka, a pair of cheesy sickle and hammer earrings, and a black _ushanka_.  
     “For my favorite Russian,” Bucky explained.  
     Next was a brand new apron with her name on the front and a pretty cushion that looked like it would fit perfectly on the stool behind the counter.  
     “For my favorite baker,” Bucky continued.  
     Natasha laughed, brushing a kiss across his cheek. “I love it all. Thank you, Bucky.”  
     “Merry Christmas, babe,” he murmured. “Hey, uh, have you talked to Clint lately?”  
    She nodded. “Last night. Why?”  
    Bucky shrugged. “I passed Darcy and Peter on my way here. She still looks like she’s having a rough time.”  
    “She is. But she’s got us, and hopefully that’ll get her through until he gets back,” Natasha sighed.  
    “How’s Peter taking it?” he asked.  
   Natasha started packing up her present, leaving the earrings out. “It hasn’t been easy for him, but he’s pretty much back to normal. I think he knows that we know something they don’t,         and I think that’s giving him hope that Clint isn’t gone for good. It’s a good thing he has Wade. He’s good for him.”  
    “Plus they make a cute couple,” Bucky winked.  
    Natasha chuckled. “That they do. Now hold my present while I put on your cheesy earrings.”  
  
 _Clint-_  
 _Peter and I walked down to the bakery a couple of hours ago because Steve said I needed some fresh air. That house still has the boat in the driveway. Apparently, it’s for sale. I bet you_ were _great at boats._  
 _-Darcy_  
  
     “For the last time, Thor, no!” Loki refused.  
     Thor pulled a pleading face. “Please, Loki? Think of the children.”  
     Loki narrowed his eyes. “I am not dressing like an elf.”  
     “You could be Rudolph,” Thor offered. “I even have the antlers.”  
     Loki hesitated a moment before sighing. “For the children. If I even think I see a camera go off, so help me, I will make you rue the day you were born.”  
     Thor clapped his hands excitedly. “Yes! The celebrations will be complete if I can only find an elf.”  
     Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Where, oh where, in this house full of people will you ever find someone?”  
     “I am not sure,” Thor said. “But I think we should check the living room.”  
     The inward sigh Loki gave was drowned out by Thor’s footsteps on the stairs. He followed his brother down into the living room, taking a moment to admire the Christmas tree. Even he had to admit it was very beautiful. His family didn’t celebrate with Christmas trees, or many of the traditional icons of Christmas, so it was a bit new to him. Almost like a childhood dream unfolding before his very eyes. They stepped into the room, Thor searching excitedly for someone to rope into wearing bells on their feet. The only one in the room was Darcy, curled up next to the fire with a notebook in her hand. Thor’s shoulders drooped for a moment and he glanced back at Loki, his eyebrow raised as if asking for permission. Loki gestured for him to try it and Thor turned back to the girl.  
     “Hello, Miss Darcy! Happy Christmas Eve!” Thor’s voice boomed.  
     She looked up from her notebook, startled. “Happy Christmas Eve, Thor. How’s it going?”  
     “Oh, quite well! Except, I am in need of an elf,” Thor explained. “Do you know of anyone in this house willing to don a costume for a few hours and hand out candy with Santa and Rudolph?”  
     Darcy smiled. “I would be honored to be your elf. I didn’t know you volunteered to play Santa at the rec center this year.”  
     Thor nodded. “I have been practicing my ‘ho ho ho’ and I think it’s coming along nicely.”  
     Darcy tipped her head in Loki’s direction. “Rudolph?”  
     “Bell slippers are beneath me,” he replied.  
     Darcy laughed. “Fair enough. Hand ‘em over Santa.”  
  
 _Clint-_  
 _You never took me to the range._  
 _-Darcy_  
  
     “I can’t believe you’ve never read _The Night Before Christmas_!” Wade exclaimed. “What are you, a communist?”  
     “Watch it,” Natasha warned, flinging a napkin in his direction.  
     Tony shrugged. “I was busy reading other things. Like textbooks. You know, those things you learn from?”  
     “Rings a bell,” Wade nodded. “I’ve heard of them once or twice. At least tell me you’ve seen _White Christmas_.”  
     Bucky laughed. “That’s a little girly for your taste, isn’t it Wade?”  
     “It is a classic, and it is fucking beautiful,” Wade defended himself. “Don’t mess with my Bing Crosby, man.”  
     “I have to say I agree with Wade on this one,” Steve added.  
     Betty raised her hand. “Me, too. It’s my favorite Christmas movie of all time.”  
     “When I was younger I would beg my parents to let me watch _Ironiya Sud'bi_ over and over again,” Natasha said. “I think I can quote the majority of that movie from beginning to end.”  
     Bucky’s face lit up. “Oh my god. Let’s play the Christmas quote game!”  
  
 _Clint-_  
 _Nine people die in blizzards in the United States every year._  
 _-Darcy_  
  
     “If you yell Yahtzee one more time, I will come across this table,” Natasha threatened.  
     Bucky nodded shamefully and tossed a couple of chips into the pot. Tony laid down the next round of cards and Steve added a chip to the pile. Thor called him and everyone showed   their hands in turn. Bucky dropped his cards last and did a victory shimmy in his seat.  
     “Monopoly, motherfuckers!” he sang, gathering up all the chips from the pot.  
     “I’m calling it a night before I kill him,” Natasha decided. “Enjoy the couch.”  
     “Where’s your Christmas spirit?” Bucky teased.  
     “Ask Yahtzee,” Natasha said over her shoulder, starting up the stairs.  
     She passed Peter’s room and caught a glimpse of him sprawled across Wade’s chest, both of them snoring loudly. She stifled a laugh and pulled the door shut. She hesitated outside of Darcy’s room, the door opened a crack. She decided to risk it and knocked lightly.  
     Darcy looked up from the phone she cradled in her lap. “Hey, Natasha. Headed to bed?”  
     She nodded. “Yeah. Bucky wiped me out a poker.”  
     “He seemed to be kicking ass when I bowed out,” Darcy laughed.  
     Natasha crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “How’re you holding up?”  
     Darcy looked away. “I’m fine. I’m going to be an elf tomorrow, actually. Should be fun.”  
     “Is Loki really going to be Rudolph?” Natasha asked skeptically.  
     Darcy shrugged. “I kind of doubt it, but that’s what he told Thor.”  
     Natasha grinned. “I can’t wait to see that.”  
  
 _Clint-_  
 _The last thing I ever said to you was a lie. Your present was the best._  
 _-Darcy_  
  
     Christmas morning wasn’t supposed to be lonely. He’d spent more than one on his own from the time he and his brother had left for the circus. He’d spent Christmases alone in foreign countries, cooped up in hospital beds, and hiding out in crappy shacks that leaked from the rain. He’d never felt lonely on Christmas before. Maybe it was because he didn’t have much to miss, or maybe he just always made the best of the situation. But looking down at his phone, the newest message glaringly bright in the darkness, Clint felt lonelier than he’d ever felt.  
     He sighed at the bright screen.  
      _Merry Christmas. I miss you. -D_  
     “Merry fucking Christmas,” he muttered.  
  
 _Clint-_  
 _Don’t leave me. Please._  
 _-Darcy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, Happy Christmas-Valentine's Day? I don't know.  
> I made a thing so here. Words are hard.  
> I need sleep guys.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should the sleepy world awake and peek into the kitchen of the Shield bakery, they would find Darcy Lewis, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hair twisted into a bun, and apron tied around her waist. She was hard at work, kneading dough for a double batch of cinnamon rolls. In the weeks since Christmas, Darcy had taken a more active role in baking, leaving the decorating to Peter and Bruce. She spent most of her days in the kitchen with Steve, cranking out pastry after pastry.

     In the small hours of the morning, the streets of downtown were quiet and empty. The sun wouldn’t appear for another few hours, nor would the hordes of the working class. The teenagers on winter break would still be nestled deep in their beds, the covers pulled tight around them. The city bus drivers and the garbage men would just be waking up to prepare for the long day ahead. Mothers and fathers would stumble out of bed to start breakfast for the early rising toddlers that insisted it was time for pancakes. Coffee makers would click on, toasters would be filled, juice would be poured, and sleepy eyes would be rubbed. But for now, the world was asleep, blissfully ignorant of the day ahead.   
     Should the sleepy world awake and peek into the kitchen of the Shield bakery, they would find Darcy Lewis, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hair twisted into a bun, and apron tied around her waist. She was hard at work, kneading dough for a double batch of cinnamon rolls. In the weeks since Christmas, Darcy had taken a more active role in baking, leaving the decorating to Peter and Bruce. She spent most of her days in the kitchen with Steve, cranking out pastry after pastry. Darcy had even started experimenting with recipes, coming up with her own creations. It was her way of coping, everyone thought, and if that meant they got to eat chocolate raspberry pancakes, then that was a burden they were more than willing to bear. 

     The one transformation that made them a bit uneasy was her complete avoidance of the balcony. She would spend her entire day, from four in the morning to eleven o’clock at night, in the bakery, but in that time she wouldn’t so much as breathe in the direction of the balcony. It was as if it no longer existed to her, like she’d blocked it from her memory with so much force that it had erased it completely. What no one else knew was that when she was alone in the bakery, those times very early and very late in the day when she had the building to herself, she would climb up the ladder and sit on the couch. She might bring something up to decorate every now and then, but the majority of the time she just sat, letting her mind wander into the area of her memory that she kept curtained off during the day.

     When she was surrounded by her friends, she kept a smile on her face and continued the sarcastic banter she was known for. She joked and laughed and went out for drinks with Natasha. She went out with Wade, Peter, and Matt on the weekends. When she was home in the evenings, she played games with everyone and chatted through dinner. If you asked her, she would tell you she was fine, just fine, peachy keen, thanks. And she would say it with enough confidence that you could believe her, her tone bright and honest. But if you looked closer, at the bags under her eyes, at the tired set of her jaw, you would know that she was not fine.

  
     “Morning, Darce!” Natasha called through the kitchen door.  
     She heard a muffled hello in response and dropped her purse behind the counter before pushing into the kitchen. She was hit by the smell of caramelizing sugar and cinnamon and her mouth began to water.  
     “It smells amazing in here. I brought coffee,” Natasha held up the cup.  
     Darcy threw a quick smile over her shoulder. “Thanks. Are you hungry? I just finished the first batch of pumpkin cinnamon rolls.”  
     “For that, I can be hungry,” Natasha decided.   
     She pulled a stool up to one of the prep tables and accepted the plate Darcy handed to her. Darcy set a timer on one of the ovens before joining her at the table.  
     “How is it?” Darcy asked, taking a sip of her coffee.  
     Natasha shot her a thumbs up. “This is really good. I can’t believe we’ve never thought of these before. What other ideas are secreted away in that brain of yours?”  
     “Those are confidential,” Darcy teased. “However, this afternoon I’m going to try my hand at Jack & Coke cupcakes.”  
     Natasha paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite?”  
     “Once or twice, I think.” Darcy winked at her.  
     “Now that is not a smell I recognize. Is someone experimenting again?” Tony called as he ambled into the kitchen.  
     Natasha gestured to her plate. “Pumpkin cinnamon rolls. You should try one.”  
     Tony helped himself to a roll from the pan on the counter, not bothering with a plate. He chewed thoughtfully for a minute. He held up a finger and walked out of the room. In the front of the bakery, they heard Tony yell for Steve. A few seconds later, Tony was dragging him into the kitchen, leading him toward the rolls.  
     “Try it,” Tony commanded, shoving the rest of the roll in his own mouth.   
     Steve shot him an odd look but did as he was told. “Whoa. Darcy?”  
     “Yeah?” She looked up from her coffee.  
     “These are going on the menu,” he said. “They’re delicious. There’s just enough pumpkin for the flavor to come through, and it doesn’t overpower the cinnamon. You did a very good job, sweetie.”  
     Darcy flushed at the praise. “Thanks.”  
     Tony studied the rolls. “What was in the glaze?”  
     “Milk, sugar, vanilla, and a splash of whiskey for taste,” Darcy responded.  
     Tony looked at her. “I raised you so well.”  
     Darcy laughed. “Sure you did. Take the rolls out to everyone else and get out of the kitchen so I can work on the orders for today.”  
     “As you wish,” Tony bowed.   
     He and Natasha wandered back into the front of the bakery with the batch of cinnamon rolls. The door swung shut behind them, cutting off their conversation. Darcy returned to her place at the counter, pulling ingredients off the shelves as she scanned through the stack of orders for the day.   
     “I put the last batch of cupcakes for the birthday order in a few minutes ago. The rest of them are iced and ready to decorate,” Darcy called over her shoulder as Steve washed his hands. “If we double the batter for the raspberry cake and split it in half before we add the raspberry puree, we can make the batter for these two orders at the same time. The bases are the same.”  
     Steve leaned over her shoulder to read the orders. “Hmm. I never realized the recipes were so similar. Do you want to start on that, or do you want to whip up a batch of honey glaze for the angel food cake?”  
     “I’ll do the glaze,” Darcy volunteered.   
     Though they’d only been baking together for a couple of weeks, Steve and Darcy had found their rhythm quickly. They split up the jobs so that they wouldn’t be tripping over each other constantly. Plus, when Darcy came into the bakery a couple of hours early, there tended to be less work to do once Steve got there, leaving more time for them to play with new recipes. Most days, by the time the midday rush started, all of the baking for the day was done. Darcy would hang up her apron, pull on her coat, tuck her notebook under her arm and head out for a bit. She never said where she was going, but she always returned looking a little happier.   
     Though he swore he hated working, Wade showed up at the bakery most days, helping with the decorating and running the counter. Some days he brought Matt, who gladly kneaded fondant into submission and folded endless boxes. Betty started coming by much more often. She and Bruce were really hitting it off. The weekend before, he’d taken her upstate to show her the lab he volunteered at when he had time. They were adorable, always mooning over each other and sending sweet little smiles across the room. When they were in a room together, it was like they lifted the mood of everyone in the room with them. Happiness by osmosis, it was.   
     When the house failed to blow up at Christmas, Natasha decided having Bucky around wasn’t such a dangerous thing, and he’d slowly started spending the nights at the house. Natasha was sure the shit would hit the fan any minute, but no one commented on it. Frankly, they were all happy Natasha had finally let them meet the guy she was dating. Plus, if he was a friend of Steve’s, how bad could he be? So despite the emptiness everyone felt, they were going on with life. Clint checked in with Natasha on an almost daily basis, and he called Tony once a week. He couldn’t tell them much about what was going on, only that he was still alive and he didn’t yet know when he’d be back.   
     Every week, Tony sugar coated the situation at home, assuring Clint that everyone was just fine and there was no reason for him to worry. He mentioned the new creations of Darcy’s, but he never said much about her directly. That information Clint got from Natasha, who knew that if she didn’t tell him, he’d run himself ragged worrying about her. So every couple of days, Natasha would catch Darcy laughing and snap a quick picture she could text to Clint. She just wished she could tell Darcy what was going on.   
  
     “I’ll be back in a few, Steve. Do you need to pick anything up while I’m out?” Darcy asked, zipping her coat.   
     Steve shook his head. “Nope, we’re all set. Take your time.”  
     Darcy thanked him and dashed out the back door, her notebook clutched tightly to her side. She cut through the back alleys of downtown, heading west toward the bay. It was a short walk when she went through the alleys, and even in the winter the bay was gorgeous. She sat on a bench facing the water and breathed in the sharp winter air, flipping her notebook open to a clean page.  
 _Clint-_  
 _It’s the second week of January, but you were right, people do still take their boats out on the bay. I sure as hell wouldn’t do it, but it seems normal to them, to chop through the ice around the dock just to get their boat moving. When I was little, my dad had this boat that he took out fishing in the summers. He took me with him sometimes. I was terrible at fishing. I never had the patience for it. I liked playing with the worms instead. My dad tried to explain to me countless times that they were bait, not toys, but I never listened. It wasn’t until my sister had kids and they started doing the same thing that I realized he’d eventually given up on using the worms as bait and cast an empty line so we could play with the worms. You would’ve liked each other. Hell, maybe you guys found each other on the other side and you’re casting lines together._  
 _I      came up with a couple of new recipes today. I made Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls with a Vanilla-Whiskey Glaze for breakfast. Steve said he wanted to put them on the menu. I made a batch of Jack & Coke cupcakes before lunch. I thought Tony was going to start crying, he looked so happy. I’m getting pretty good at coming up with new creations. Who knew I was such a baking prodigy? Maybe I should switch from Political Science to a culinary degree. I’m sure Professor Fury would be thrilled._

_The circus is in town this week. I’ve never been before but Peter, Wade, Natasha, Bucky, and I are going tonight. I wonder if it was the same circus you ran away to? I looked up the history, but there weren’t pictures and everyone had a stage name. Natasha couldn’t remember the name you’d used. I wonder if your brother is still in the circus. You never said. Anyway, I should get back to the bakery._

_I miss you._  
 _-Darcy_  
  
     “Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls! Feast your eyes on the amazing, the magnificent...Red Arrow!”   
     The ringmaster’s voice boomed loudly in the tent and the crowd roared in anticipation. A tall, thin man in a flashy red costume did a series of complicated looking flips into the ring. A clown off to the side tossed his bow to him and he caught it, pulling an arrow out of his quiver with the other hand. A couple of targets had been set up high in the rafters of the tent. The marksman bounded into the audience, taking the creaky wooden stairs two at a time. He paused about halfway up and took aim. He managed to land an arrow in the bullseye of each target. The crowd went crazy with applause. Wade and Bucky whooped with delight. Natasha didn’t look too impressed. Darcy wasn’t an expert on archery, but she thought hitting the bullseye was the point.   
     As the man made his way back to the center, Peter offered Darcy the bag of cotton candy. “Is that guy wearing a skirt?”  
     Darcy squinted. “It kind of looks like a loin cloth.”  
     Peter giggled and stuffed a tuft of cotton candy in his mouth.   
     “For my next trick,” the man announced, “I’ll need a volunteer from the audience!”  
     Hands shot up all around. The man called a teenage girl from the crowd and positioned her on the far end of the tent. Darcy’s eyes roamed over the tent, taking in the audience, the performers, even the tent itself. Her eyes caught movement in the rafters and she leaned forward, trying to get a better look. It took a moment for her eyes to pick out the figure, but she realized it was a boy no more than ten years old scampering overhead. The smile on her face froze. All of a sudden, a memory came flooding back to her.   
    _“One night I was up in the rafters, watching the show...”_  
     She wasn’t in the tent anymore. She was leaning on the kitchen counter, listening to Clint talk. He had a small smile on his lips and he spoke with a hint of nostalgia, like he hadn’t told the story in a long time. He was only a few feet from her. If she reached out, she could touch him. He was so close, so alive. Darcy sucked in a breath and snapped back to reality. The crowd was going crazy, the Red Arrow bowing deeply down below.   
     She had to get out of there. There wasn’t enough air in the tent. It was too much. She shot to her feet. Natasha and Peter turned towards her.   
     “Darcy?” Natasha started to stand.   
     “No,” she gasped out. “I’m fine. Stay. I’ll be right back.”  
     Before anyone could stop her or offer to come with her, she hurried down the stairs. She slipped out of the tent as the next act started. As soon as she stepped outside, the cold winter air smacked into her, stealing away what little breath she had left. Darcy dropped to the ground, clutching her chest. She couldn’t breathe. It felt like her lungs had been ripped out. The snow seeped through her jeans, but she couldn’t stand. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to relax, tried to control her breathing.   
     It took a few minutes, but she managed to calm herself down, to regain control. She was overwhelmed by a wave of fatigue. She sat there in the snow, her eyes shut tight against the outside world until she could hear the show coming to an end inside. She dragged herself to her feet and brushed off the snow that clung to her legs. The flap of the tent was pushed aside and Natasha stepped out, her eyes scanning the landscape worriedly. She caught sight of Darcy and dashed to her side.   
     “Are you okay?” she demanded, checking her for injuries.  
     Darcy patted her on the shoulder. “I’m fine, Natasha. I just got hit with a little claustrophobia or something.”  
     “You’re all wet!” Natasha exclaimed, looking down at her jeans.  
     “Oh, that. I, uh, fell. In the snow,” Darcy explained lamely.   
     Natasha studied her face. “Darcy, did you have a panic attack?”  
     “What? No. No, of course not. I...maybe. Yeah. Yeah, I think I did,” she sighed.   
     Natasha shrugged out of her coat and wrapped it around Darcy’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go home.”  
     Darcy let Natasha lead her to where Bucky, Wade, and Peter were waiting with the car. All three of them looked worriedly at Darcy when she approached. Without a word, Darcy crawled into the car and buckled her seat belt, wrapping Natasha’s coat around her tighter. Wade and Peter sat on either side of her. Wade put his arm around her shoulder and Darcy fell asleep against his side before they even made it out of the parking lot.   
     Checking the rearview mirror to make sure Darcy was asleep, Bucky cleared his throat. “Is she okay?”  
     Natasha glanced in the backseat. “She had a panic attack.”  
     Peter made a noise and Wade’s arm tightened protectively around Darcy’s sleeping form. The car fell silent for a few minutes as they waited for the line of cars to creep out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Bucky put his hand on Natasha’s knee. She squeezed his hand gratefully and looked out the window.   
     In the backseat, Peter shifted. “When are you going to tell her?”  
     Natasha winced. “We can’t.”  
     “Why the hell not?” he seethed.  
     Natasha twisted in her seat to look at him. “It’s too dangerous for her to know. I can’t say much about what Clint’s doing, mostly because I don’t know everything about it. But what I can tell you is that in his past, Clint made some enemies. These enemies resurfaced recently, and have been tracking him. They know about him and Darcy. Right now, they won’t do anything to her because they think Clint’s dead. But if they find out it was a trick, she’s in danger. Until Clint can take them out, she can’t know.”  
     “So, what, he was James Bond in a past life?” Peter asked.  
     “More or less,” Natasha confirmed.  
     Peter and Wade exchanged a look.   
     Wade grinned. “I knew that guy was cool.”     Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s bad enough that the two of you have figured it out. You can’t say anything to anyone about it. I’m serious. If you do, you’re putting Darcy and Clint in immense danger.”  
     Peter and Wade both nodded in acknowledgement.   
     After a couple of beats, Wade caught Natasha’s eye in the side mirror. “She’s gonna kill him when he comes back.”  
     Natasha nodded once. “Yes, she will.” **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's one in the morning and I'm singing Irish rock songs while editing, so I apologize if there are mistakes. Also, I've almost convinced myself that making Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls right now would be a really good idea.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Darcy had gotten a few hours of sleep, she wouldn’t have been at the bakery that early. If she hadn’t been at the bakery so early, she wouldn’t have been trying to make Red Bull cupcakes. If she hadn’t been trying to make Red Bull cupcakes, she wouldn’t have been making little bulls out of fondant. If she hadn’t been making little bulls out of fondant, she wouldn’t have reached for the scalpel. If Darcy had gotten a few hours of sleep, she wouldn’t be in the emergency room getting stitches in her palm.

          It was funny how lonely you could be in a house full of people. How, even with every light in the room blazing, you could feel the darkness creeping closer, it’s snaking fingers reaching for you. Sleep no longer became an escape, but a curse in itself. Your nightmares came to life, terrorizing you in the light of the day as much as they did in the darkness of your bedroom. Watching the clock tick away, counting down to the hour you would be forced to crawl into bed and brace yourself for the onslaught, you would wish for just a few more hours of light. Just a few more minutes to gather the strength to get you through the night. Sometimes, it worked. But when it didn’t, it was torture.

          That was part of the reason why Darcy hadn’t slept in two days. If Darcy had gotten a few hours of sleep, she wouldn’t have been at the bakery that early. If she hadn’t been at the bakery so early, she wouldn’t have been trying to make Red Bull cupcakes. If she hadn’t been trying to make Red Bull cupcakes, she wouldn’t have been making little bulls out of fondant. If she hadn’t been making little bulls out of fondant, she wouldn’t have reached for the scalpel. If Darcy had gotten a few hours of sleep, she wouldn’t be in the emergency room getting stitches in her palm.

          The nurse taped a strip of gauze over the fresh stitches and told Darcy to be careful using her hand until the wound healed, and to keep the stitches from getting too wet. Darcy nodded mutely and made her way through the sterile halls toward the waiting room. The halls were nearly empty, only an orderly here and there. She could hear the hum of voices behind curtains in the distance. She looked down at her bandaged hand, feeling stupid. Who the hell cuts themselves picking up a tool? She could already hear the lecture she was going to get when she got back to the bakery. Strangely, her heart gave a longing squeeze. How bad was a lecture? A lecture meant someone cared. Darcy flashed back to the look on Steve’s face when he dashed into the kitchen to find her sitting on the floor, one hand cradled in her lap, the other holding her cell phone.

          Darcy reached out to pull open the door with her good hand. Before she could, someone grabbed her from behind. Her arms were pinned to her side as she struggled against her attacker. A crisp white handkerchief was pressed to her face and the world faded into darkness.

 

          “Don’t worry about it Steve, we’ve got things covered here,” Tony assured the man through the phone. “Just get Darcy stitched up and take her home. She doesn’t need to be here today.”

          Steve sighed. “Tony, I don’t think she’s been sleeping. At all.”

          “What makes you say that?” Tony asked.

          Steve’s voice was low and sad. “You should’ve seen her this morning, Tony. She looked so helpless, her shirt covered in blood. She hardly looked like the Darcy we know. It was like all the color had been drained out of her. I tried to tell myself it was just the shock of the injury, but…she’s been like this for too long.”

          Tony was quiet. “I’m going to talk to Natasha. I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but we have to tell her. At this point, I’m worried she’s going to do something drastic.”

          “Clint couldn’t live with himself if something happened to her,” Steve said. “And neither can I. This has gone far enough. We’re telling her. _Today_.”

          “When you get back, Natasha and I will sit her down and tell her everything,” Tony agreed.

          They disconnected and Tony ran a hand over his face. There was a knock at his office door and he looked up. Natasha leaned against the frame.

          “You probably aren’t going to like this, but I did it anyway,” she started off.

          Tony held up a hand. “That is by far the worst introduction to a topic I have ever heard, but I’m going to risk it and ask. What did you do?”

          “I called Darcy and told her I needed to talk to her about Clint,” she told him.

          Tony smiled wryly. “You don’t say. I just got off the phone with Steve, and we agreed it was time to tell her. What did she say?”

          Natasha shrugged. “Nothing. I got her voicemail. She’s probably still in with a doctor.”

          Tony sank into his chair. “Any word from Clint?”

          “Radio silence since last week,” Natasha reported. “Meaning either he found his target or-”

          Tony nodded when she stopped talking. They both knew what it could mean. All the more reason to come clean to Darcy. If Clint had failed, she could still potentially be in danger. They wouldn’t put it past these guys to off Clint and then come after her just for kicks. If that was the case, Darcy needed to be prepared. Tony and Natasha might not have been privy to all the information Clint was, but they knew enough to know that the people they were dealing with were dangerous, and their threat was not something to be taken lightly.

 

          “Excuse me, miss, but is there any update on Darcy Lewis?” Steve asked.

          The nurse at the front desk turned dutifully toward the computer, tapping at the keys. Her brow furrowed and she scanned the screen carefully, as if looking for a hidden message.

          She glanced up at Steve, confused. “Sir, Miss Lewis was discharged half an hour ago. She received treatment for a deep laceration on her left palm and was then released.”

          Steve’s shoulders tensed. Something was wrong. There was a commotion at the door and the nurse stood from her chair.

          She glanced over at Steve. “Are you her father?”

          Steve didn’t hesitate before nodding.

          The nurse hit a button on the underside of the desk. “Go on back. She probably felt faint and found an empty bed. You’ll both need to sign out when you come back through. If you’ll excuse me?” 

          Steve thanked her as she hurried toward the door. He stepped through the door and his foot connected with something, sending it skittering across the hall. He stooped to retrieve it. It was a black cell phone. Steve flipped it over, hoping vainly there would be a name scratched onto the back. The sight of the small penguin sticker on the back made his blood run cold. He hurried down the hall, his eyes searching the sparsely populated emergency room for the familiar brunette. His heart racing, he pushed back into the waiting room, already dialing Tony’s number.

          “Darcy’s gone.”

 

          “Darcy’s Brothel. Leave your name and fetish at the beep.”

_“Listen, Darce. We need to talk. It’s about Clint. I can’t talk about it over the phone, but when you get back to the bakery, I’ll tell you everything. Just know that everything’s going to be okay. Hang in there, Darcy.”_

Tony threw his office door open, sprinting toward the counter. He slapped at the silent alarm a couple of times and sank against the ledge, waiting. Doors swung open in all directions, bakery workers flooding into the room, ready for war. Peter had a stool in one hand, Thor had a hammer, and Natasha had the tenderizer. Tony motioned for them to put the weapons away and turned to face them, hands on his hips.

          “We’ve got a problem,” he announced.

          Natasha stiffened. “What’s the matter?”

          The front door swung open and Steve rushed inside, his eyes wild. “Other than the phone, there was no other trace of her. They got at least an hour’s head start, and we have no way of tracking her.”

          Thor wrinkled his brow. “What in the name of all is going on? Who cannot be tracked? Why do we need a trace of her?”

          “Darcy,” Loki said quietly.

          Tony nodded solemnly. “She’s disappeared.”

          Natasha moved behind the counter and pulled out her laptop. “Where was the last place you saw her?”

          “At the hospital, when she was taken in the back for stitches,” Steve supplied. “She was discharged by the attending nurse a little less than an hour ago.”

          Natasha nodded and focused on the computer screen. After a moment, she straightened and hit a key.

          “I’ve got her,” she said.

          Everyone crowded behind her to watch the screen. She hit play and they watched Darcy walk into frame, an orderly a few paces behind her. She reached for the door and the orderly leapt towards her, his arms wrapping around her. The struggle was short. She’d been taken by surprise. They watched as Darcy drooped and the orderly dragged her out of the frame. Natasha hit a button and another camera angle took its place, this one showing Darcy on a gurney being wheeled through the hospital. They lost her in the building after that, but an exterior camera caught their exit. The man, still in scrubs, dumped Darcy in the back of an SUV and slipped into the passenger seat.

          “I can run the plates, but I’m sure they’ll come back stolen. However, this looks like a newer model, and it probably has a built in GPS I can override. I can at least find the vehicle,” Natasha told them.

          “How the hell do you know how to do that?” Peter asked.

          Natasha bent over the laptop. “When Clint was in the field full time, I was his partner.”

          Peter stared at her, his mouth open. “Jesus Christ.”

          Natasha nodded.

          “You know what, out of all of this, that makes the most sense,” Peter decided. “What can I do to help?”

          Natasha looked up at him wryly. “Frost the cupcakes.”

          “Are you serious?” Peter asked.

          “Right now, there isn’t anything you can do but keep busy,” Tony interrupted. “I’ll call HQ and see if I can pull any information from them.”  
          The snort Natasha gave in response didn’t sound very hopeful. Peter and Bruce set up shop on the other end of the counter, refusing to be far from the rest of the group. Thor and Loki took to the van to start canvassing the area around the hospital.

          “Nat, they need your security code!” Tony shouted from his office.

          Natasha abandoned the laptop for a moment and joined Tony and Steve in the office, shutting the door behind her. The front door of the bakery opened and there was a thud as something was dropped to the ground.

          “I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Peter called over his shoulder, finishing a swirl of icing.

          “Oh, don’t worry I’ll wait.”

          Peter whirled around, the icing bag falling from his hands. It landed with a splat on the wooden floor, the thick blue icing spurting onto Peter’s shoes.

          “Holy shit,” he muttered.

          Clint grinned wearily. “Good to see you, too, Parker.”

         

          Darcy blinked her eyes, trying to clear her vision. Colors and light swam together, making it impossible to discern anything. She squeezed her eyes shut and let her head clear for a moment. This time, when se opened her eyes, she could see clearly. The sight didn’t make her feel much better. Nor did the pull of the rope around her wrists or the resistance of the gag in her mouth.

          She looked around the room and surveyed her surroundings. Besides the chair she was tied to, there was a small table in the corner that held a lamp. Directly in front of her was a doorway. She could hear voices outside, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She tugged experimentally on the rope around her wrists, but the knots wouldn’t budge. She took a deep breath, thankful that the gag at least seemed to be clean.

          _Congrats, Lewis. You’re tied up and gagged and you’re probably going to be harvested for organs and then thrown in the bay. But at least you got your hand stitched up._

          The voices outside grew louder, and Darcy realized someone was coming her way. She straightened in her chair, determined that she wouldn’t start crying until they actually started chopping her up. A man stepped into the room and Darcy instinctively tried to back up.

          The man smiled easily. “Miss Lewis, you’ve awakened. How lovely.”

          She met his eyes, trying not to flinch.

          The man laughed, the sound cold and slimy. “Oh, if looks could kill, darling! I cannot wait to hear what you have to say.”

          He slunk behind her and undid the gag, letting it fall into her lap.

          Darcy moved her jaw around, making sure it was still fully functional. “Gee, thanks.”

          The man stood in front of her, looking relaxed. “Mm, the bite on you. No wonder Barton’s head over heels for you. He’s always liked a woman who bit back.”

          “Come a little closer. I’ll show you my bite,” Darcy spat out.

          The man just chuckled. “Ah, sweetheart, now that’s no way to give a first impression! Of course, I’ve known you for a while. I’ve been following you for almost three months now. You see, I knew about your little romance before you did.”

          Darcy’s blood ran cold. “Why?”

          “Hmm? Oh, why have I been following you?” The man asked. “Because, my dear, our dear friend Clint took a shine to you. See, your man wasn’t always the upstanding old decorator you know him as. I presume from that reaction you had at the circus a couple of weeks ago that he told you a little of his past? I’d wager I wasn’t mentioned.”

          “This is all fascinating, but if you could cut to the part where you tell me why I’m here and how you’re going to kill me, I’d appreciate that,” Darcy growled.

          The man continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You and I will spending some time together, so I should introduce myself. My name is Trent Black. About six years ago, I was engaged to be married to a woman named Heather McAvoy. Oh, I had it all. I was learning to run my father’s company, I had a beautiful fiancée. One day, I was approached leaving my office. These men threw me in their car and took off. They told me they had Heather and that if I wanted her back, I had to give them a set of codes that would let them access nearly every government database that existed. My father’s company specialized in government security. I had access to the codes. They gave me a deadline and dropped me at home. Of course, my father got wind of it, and called in a friend in some agency or another. They sent Clint Barton, a strapping young marksman with all the skill and experience in hostage situations.”

          Trent glanced over at Darcy. “I’ll be a gentleman and spare you the boring details of the set up. Anyway, they sent me in with a set of false codes. Clint was in position to take down the captors. I handed them over, and they released Heather. They turned to leave, and do you know what Clint did? Nothing. He watched them. So I took it into my own hands. I pulled a gun and fired at them. Oh, it was glorious! The looks on their faces when they went down! Only, one of them went down and came right back up with a gun of his own. That’s when your man jumped into action. He pegged him right before the shot went off. That shot ended up in Heather’s chest. It might not have been hit weapon that killed her, but he was the reason she died. Now, I’m getting my payback. After six years, he finally found his Heather.”

          Darcy swallowed hard. “So you’re going to shoot me?”

          Trent gave another of those awful smiles. “Oh, sweetheart, no! I would never. It’ll be so much better if he does it.”

          “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but that’ll never happen,” Darcy bit out.

          “Why’s that, sweetness?” Trent asked smoothly.

          Darcy looked down at the floor. “Because he’s dead. He has been for a month.”

          “Oh, really?” Trent raised an eyebrow. “Because I saw him just last week. He lied to you, Darcy. They all did.”

 

          Clint rubbed his jaw, the spot throbbing a bit from Peter’s sloppy punch. “I can’t say I didn’t deserve that.”

          “I’m glad you’re alive,” Peter said begrudgingly. “But if you ever do something like that again, I will kill you myself.”

          Clint nodded warily. “Deal.”

          The door to Tony’s office was ripped open, Tony and Natasha spilling out. Tony froze mid-stride, his eyes settling on Clint. Behind him, Steve sucked in a breath. Natasha moved back to the laptop, avoiding Clint’s eyes.

          “You’re back,” Tony stated.

          “Yes,” Clint confirmed.

          “And alive,” Tony added.

          “I have all my fingers and toes, too,” Clint clarified.

          Tony just nodded dumbly.

          Clint looked around. “Okay, I expected Peter to be pissed at me, but the rest of you knew I was leaving. So why the long faces and shocked looks?”

          Everyone traded nervous glances, trying to decide how to best explain the situation.

          Clint shook his head. “While you formulate a response, I’m going to go get my ass kicked by Darcy. Is she in the kitchen?”

          Clint didn’t wait for an answer, pushing through the kitchen door. A few seconds later, he returned, looking pained.        

          “There’s a bloody hand print on the floor,” he said. “Why is there a bloody hand print, and where’s Darcy?”

          He looked from person to person, his gaze prodding them to speak. He looked at Natasha last, perched behind the laptop.

          “Nat?” he asked softly.

          She looked up. “They took her. A couple of hours ago. She was at the hospital getting stitches. They were disguised as orderlies.”

          Clint turned and kicked open the kitchen door. It swung closed behind him, but they could all hear the bang of pots being thrown on the ground. Peter flinched at the noise. The clatter of the pots stopped and the bakery went silent for a moment, as if holding its breath. Clint walked calmly back into the room. He reached around Natasha for the phone and punched in a number.

          “C67439-JG456. Code blue,” he barked into the phone. “This is Agent Barton requesting PTK on Target #5629H. He’s in the area and he’s taken a hostage.” Clint paused as the person on the other end spoke. “No, that’s all. I’ve got my own.”

          Clint disconnected and put the phone back.

          Natasha stood. “I’ve got a location. I’m coming with you.”

          Clint just nodded, retrieving his bag from the floor.

          “I’m coming, too,” Tony said, moving to follow them.

          Clint stopped at the door. “No. You’re staying here. Everyone needs to stay here. When they realize I’m coming after them, they could decide to come after the rest of you. I want you to stay here. Lock yourselves in the kitchen or in the office, but stay away from the windows, and don’t let anyone else inside. There’s a shotgun behind the couch upstairs and a handgun in the supply room off the kitchen. I’ll call you when we get her.”

          Clint pushed open the door but paused, looking back. “I’ll bring her back. I promise. And somebody call the Dynamic Duo and get them off the road.”

         

          Darcy shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would they do that?”

          “Because, darling. They were afraid of me,” Trent explained simply. “Clint knew what I was going to do to you, so he ran away. He left you, because he didn’t want to see it.”

          The blood in Darcy’s body was boiling hot and it made her antsy. “I think you’re wrong.”

          “Oh, because he told you all about his little plan?” Trent shot back.

          “No,” Darcy admitted. “I think you’re wrong because I know Clint. Even if there was no way to stop it, no way to save me, he’d stay until the end.”

          She met Trent’s eyes challengingly. “That’s where he’s been, isn’t it? He’s been trying to track you down. He figured that if you thought he was dead, you’d get sloppy and reveal yourself.”

          Trent’s eyes narrowed. “I’m never sloppy, darling.”

          Darcy snorted. “You were sloppy enough not to kidnap me.”

          “And what, pray tell, does that mean?” Trent folded his hands behind his back.

          “That means,” Darcy replied, “That Clint was off the radar because he was trying to protect me. Now that I’m in danger, you can be damn sure he’ll be back with a vengeance when he finds out.”

          Trent gave a long, loud laugh. “What makes you think that isn’t exactly what I want? What makes you think I don’t know exactly how this is going to play out?”

          Darcy shrugged. “Maybe the fact that I undid the knots about ten minutes ago and the voices in the other room stopped talking.”

          Trent froze, the grin on his face slackening. He turned toward the door, pulling a gun from his waistband. He leveled it at Darcy’s chest and shouted into the hall.

          “Come out, come out, wherever you are, Barton! Daddy wants to play a game!”

          Darcy grimaced. “You have issues, you know that?”  
          Trent whipped around, his eyes blazing. “Shut your mouth, bitch, or I’ll shut it for you!”  
          Darcy held her hands up in surrender. “Please, continue.”

          Trent hissed. “Maybe I should just put a bullet down your throat already. You’ll be dead either way.”

          “Listen, sweetheart, if you can’t stand the heat, there’s the door,” Darcy shrugged.

          “ _Down!”_

          Darcy rolled out of her seat, hitting the floor at the same time the gun went off. There was a loud thud, but Darcy kept her face to the floor, her arms over her head. A pair of strong hands hauled her to her feet and before she could open her eyes, she found herself crushed to someone’s chest, their arms holding her tightly. She breathed in the familiar scent and sighed, tears threatening to fall.

          “I should be punching you in the face right now,” she mumbled.

          Clint gave a weak laugh. “If it makes you feel any better, Peter got me pretty good at the bakery.”

          Darcy started to pull back.

          “You don’t want to see that, Darce,” Clint warned. “Shut your eyes and hold onto me.”

          Darcy did as she was told and let Clint lead her. She felt the temperature change and opened her eyes. She was standing outside, still wrapped up in Clint’s arms. She heard Natasha’s voice, followed by the revving of an engine. Clint loosened his hold and let her pull back.

          Darcy swiped her good hand over her face, brushing away tears. “You didn’t kill his fiancée.”

          Clint nodded. “I know. Deep down, I think he did, too. But he needed to blame someone, and I was an easy target. I’m so sorry. About all of this. About lying to you, about hurting you, about getting you kidnapped. I know I messed you up, and I know you’re pissed, and I don’t blame you in the least. But I kept you safe for a lot longer this way. That isn’t an excuse, it’s just my explanation of why I did it. I know what I did-“

          He was cut off mid-sentence by Darcy’s fist. For such a short girl, she sure could pack a punch. It helped that a couple months of pent up anger were behind it, added to the stress of the day she’d been through. All in all, she ended up knocking Clint flat on his ass.

          He wiped at the blood trickling from his nose and looked up at her.

          Darcy squared her shoulders. “You deserved that and I’m not apologizing.”

          Clint nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “You want to finish kicking my ass here or at home?”

          Darcy sighed wearily. “Home, please.”

          They walked toward the car, where Natasha was waiting.

          Darcy cast a sideways glance at Clint. “Did I break your nose?”

          “Yeah, I think you did,” Clint said quietly.

          Darcy cracked her knuckles. “Good.”

         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's baaaaaaaaack. It's a good thing for him Darcy hasn't slept in two days. I have a feeling after a shower and a nap...well, his nose is going to be the least of his worries.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are your plans for the day?” Steve asked Peter, pouring himself a cup of coffee.  
>  Peter yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve got a study group with Wade and Matt at the library. Other than that, I just plan to be as far away from here as I can get.”  
>  Steve glanced out at the porch where Clint was standing. “I’m thinking that’s a good plan. You wouldn’t happen to need the help of a former museum curator and baker, would you?”  
>  “Not unless you studied microbiology in your spare time,” Peter replied.

       “What are your plans for the day?” Steve asked Peter, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

        Peter yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve got a study group with Wade and Matt at the library. Other than that, I just plan to be as far away from here as I can get.”

        Steve glanced out at the porch where Clint was standing. “I’m thinking that’s a good plan. You wouldn’t happen to need the help of a former museum curator and baker, would you?”

        “Not unless you studied microbiology in your spare time,” Peter replied.

        Steve grimaced.

        “That’s kind of what I thought,” Peter teased. “Call me if things get dicey with those two, okay?”

        Steve agreed and Peter gathered up his backpack and travel mug. He called a goodbye to the house at large as he slipped outside. Clint looked up and gave him a quick wave as he jogged out to where Wade’s car was idling in the driveway. On the second floor of the house, Natasha and Bucky watched the bright red car back out and take off. 

        Natasha arched her back, stretching her muscles. “Remind me to tell Wade that it’s generally a bad idea to make out with your boyfriend while driving a car in reverse.”

        “I don’t know, he pulled it off pretty well,” Bucky said, running a hand over his sleep-tousled hair. 

        “I’m better,” Natasha grinned.

        Bucky leaned his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist. They stood and watched the snow fall on the other side of the window. Natasha relaxed, leaning into Bucky’s chest. She would never admit it, but she took comfort in being so close to someone that she could feel their heart beating, feel the rise and fall of their chest as they breathed. There was something so intimate about it, and it made her feel safe. She let out a content sigh and Bucky smiled, dipping his head to press a light kiss on her shoulder. 

        “When’s the last time you went sledding?” he asked suddenly.

        Natasha laughed at the abrupt question. “I’m not sure. It’s been a very long time.”

        “We should go sledding,” Bucky decided. “This is perfect sledding weather. We have to take advantage of it.”

        Natasha turned to face him, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. “I think that sounds perfect.”

        “And,” Bucky continued, quieter, “It might be a good way to get everyone out of the house for a little while.”

        He caught the look on Natasha’s face and flushed. “What?”

        Natasha shook her head. “Sometimes I forget how smart you are.”

        “I’m not sure if I should be offended or not, because I’d like to think I’m pretty smart all the time,” Bucky argued.

        Natasha raised her eyebrows. “You made me do a shadow puppet reenactment of Little Red Riding Hood with you last night.”

        “You say that like you didn’t have fun.”

                

        There was something slightly creepy about making out in a library. It was like the books had eyes, as if Shakespeare and Hemingway were watching your boyfriend slip you the tongue. Not that Peter really minded the tongue part. That he was enjoying. He just wished they could move to somewhere a little more private. Yet he was still disappointed when Wade pulled back and reached down to readjust his clothing. 

        He smirked at the look on Peter’s face. “Matt will be here any minute and, as much as I’d like to keep doing this with you, I really need this study group.”

        Peter smiled. “I know. You still slip up and call it biochemistry half the time.”

        “Science is hard,” Wade whined.

        Peter ruffled his hair and led the way to the back of the building where a handful of tables were set up, most of them already occupied by frazzled looking students. Peter spotted Matt at the table nearest to them and dropped into the seat next to him, Wade following him.

        Matt turned toward them and narrowed his eyes. “You two smell like sex.”

        “I wish,” Peter grumbled.

        Wade looked at him. “Aw, it’s like we’re already married! How precious!”

        Matt laughed. “All right, newlyweds, let’s get to work. Wade, what are the five characteristics of life?”

        “Hey, that’s like the first thing we learned!” he protested. “Give me a little more credit than that.”

        Matt just waited quietly.

        Wade huffed dramatically. “Cells, their ability to maintain structure by reacting with the environment, response to stimuli, reproduction, and evolution.”

        Matt nodded. “Peter, what are the three domains of the classification system?”

        “Bacteria, Archaea, and Eukarya,” Peter answered. “What is the difference between the domains of Bacteria and Archaea?”

        Matt squinted in thought. “The presence of peptidoglycan in the cell wall.”

        “Wade, name four diseases that can be caused by microbes,” Peter said.

        Wade’s eyes widened. 

        “Think STDs, buddy,” Matt prompted.

        Wade clapped his hands together. “Gonorrhea, chlamydia, herpes, and cholera.”

        “You knew freaking cholera but you couldn’t think of Strep Throat or AIDS?” Peter asked, amused. “I don’t think anybody’s had cholera since the Civil War.”

        “Good heavens, woman, this is a war not a garden party!” Wade’s voice took on an exaggerated Southern drawl.

        Peter stared at him.

        Wade slapped the table. “You’ve never seen _Gone With the Wind?”_  


        Matt shook his head. “I cannot wait to meet your children.”

        

        After she, Natasha, and Clint had gotten home the night before, Darcy had stayed awake just long enough to shower and pull on a fresh pair of sweatpants. Then she had unceremoniously dropped onto her bed and fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. A couple months of barely sleeping were rough on a person, but when Darcy stumbled into the bathroom to brush her teeth she was surprised to see she looked more like herself than she had in weeks. The voice inside her head that sounded a lot like her mother told her she needed to turn around and go back to sleep for another twelve hours. She pushed away the thought and rinsed out her toothbrush, dropping it in the holder next to Peter’s.

        As she stepped into the hall, she noticed how quiet it was. She stood at the bottom of the stairwell to the third floor and listened, but she couldn’t hear the music that usually drifted down when Steve was working in his studio. She couldn’t hear movement in any of the bedrooms on this floor either. Darcy vaguely remembered Tony mentioning they were closing up the bakery for a few days while things got back to normal. She wondered if they’d changed their minds and that’s where everyone had gotten to. She made her way downstairs, stopping in her room to shrug on a sweatshirt. 

        She moved on autopilot, her feet carrying her to the kitchen without any conscious decision being made. Darcy was halfway across the kitchen, her hand already reaching for the coffee pot, before she realized she wasn’t alone. She turned her head and caught Clint watching her. 

       She dropped her hand to her side. “Hi.”

       Clint raised a hand slowly, as if hoping not to startle her. “Hi. Did you sleep well?”

       Darcy nodded. 

       “Did you want some coffee?” Clint asked, clearing his throat.

       Darcy looked at the mug he pushed forward and took it. “Thanks. Where is everybody?”

        “They went sledding,” Clint told her. “Bucky convinced Natasha it was vital that they go sledding today, and everybody else thought it sounded like a good idea.”

        Darcy slid into the chair opposite his at the table. “Let me guess. They wanted to give us room to talk.”

       “That was my impression, yes,” Clint agreed. 

       “Well,” Darcy took a deep breath, “I think talking would be a very good idea, however I made a decision about how I want to do this.”

       Clint’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Oh..kay. And how is that?”

       “Drunk,” Darcy announced. “So I’m going to eat a donut and have a beer with my coffee. You aren’t allowed to talk to me about what happened until I start slurring my speech.”

 

 

        “Where the hell did you get these sleds, Bucky?” Tony demanded. “These look like something the military has hidden in sheds behind a lot of barbed wire and fences.”

       Bucky grinned. “I’m afraid that’s classified.”

       Tony squinted at him. “You’re a journalist.”

       “A journalist who used to be a soldier,” Bucky corrected. “Stop glaring at me and start sledding, Stark. Make the most of the snow.”

        “1...2...3!” Betty shouted, falling back in the snow, her hand looped through Bruce’s arm.  

       Natasha and Thor hauled them to their feet, careful not to mess up the imprints in the snow. They looked down at Bruce and Betty’s shapes. Bruce leaned forward and carved out a top hat and a cane on his snow angel. Betty laughed, her breath coming out in a cloud. A few feet away, Loki was sprawled out in the snow as if it was the most comfortable thing in the world. 

       Thor gave a booming laugh. “I believe you are supposed to move your arms, brother, if you wish to make the angel’s wings.”

       “My angel has invisible wings,” Loki informed him, his eyes closed.

       Thor crouched next to his brother and drew a line in the snow above Loki’s head.

       Loki cracked one eye open. “What are you doing?”

      “Giving you a halo,” Thor answered simply.

       Loki reached up and shoved his brother. Thor landed on his back, letting out a startled laugh. 

       “I believe you’re supposed to move your arms now, Thor,” Loki told him dryly.

       The laugh Thor gave in response shook the snow from the lowest branches of the tree Bucky was standing under. He yelped at the cold slush that landed on his head. His foot hit an icy patch of snow and he fell against Natasha, knocking both of them to the ground. Natasha sighed and reached up to brush the snow out of Bucky’s hair. 

      Bucky smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

      “At least you didn’t roll me down the hill,” Natasha teased, pushing Bucky aside so she could stand. “Hey Betty, you wanna ride with me?”

      “And leave me all by my lonesome?” Bruce teased.

      Betty giggled. “You can ride with Bucky.”

      “Yeah, we’ll race,” Natasha said. “First one to pass the soccer field wins.”

       Natasha sat behind Betty, deftly folding her legs around Betty’s hips and grabbing hold of the sides of the sled to help with steering. They watched as Bucky and Bruce struggled to get situated on their sled. Their longer legs and broader builds made it harder to get the positioning right, but finally Bruce announced they were ready, taking hold of the reigns while Bucky shifted uncomfortably. Tony stood between the sleds, his arms raised. Steve jogged down the hill to the finish line in case it was a close call.

      “Ready! Go!” Tony shouted, dropping his arms. 

      In one smooth motion, Natasha and Betty leaned back, letting the shift drop them over the ridge of the hill. Bucky swore as he pushed off with his hands. Betty and Natasha’s sled zoomed through the snow, the two of them shrieking the whole way. Bucky and Bruce weren’t far behind, Bucky shouting excitedly. For a moment, it looked like the boys might take the lead, but the hill started to flatten out, and their extra weight slowed them down. Natasha and Betty blew past Steve and dug their hands in the snow to stop themselves. Bucky and Bruce were waiting for them next to Steve, the sled tucked under Bucky’s arm. 

       Bucky bowed as they approached. “I applaud you fine ladies. You did indeed deliver our asses to us on a silver platter.”

       “Damn straight,” Betty said, bumping fists with Natasha. 

       Bucky nudged Steve. “I’m issuing a challenge, big guy.”

       Steve raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? What’s your challenge?”

       “Tony and I against you and Natasha,” Bucky announced, throwing one arm out in an arc, as if he were reading from a movie poster.

       Steve and Natasha exchanged a look. “You’re on.”

       At the top of the hill, Bucky repeated the challenge to Tony, who nodded confidently. Natasha dropped her sled in the snow and folded herself into the front of it. Steve tucked himself in behind her, hooking his ankles on the front edge. Next to them, Bucky was wriggling around, still having problems with the seating arrangement.

       “Your foot is on my balls and that is not okay in this situation,” Tony called over his shoulder.

       Bucky stopped moving. “In what situation _is_ that okay?”

       “Do you really want to have this conversation right now?” Tony asked. 

       Bucky readjusted himself and nodded to Betty, who had taken over for Tony. Bruce waved from the finish line and Betty dropped her arms with a shout. Both sleds shot over the hill like bats out of Hell. The sleds stayed even with each other halfway down the hill, sending a spray of snow behind them. Just past the halfway mark, Natasha heard Tony swear, followed by a particularly girlish squeal. Behind her, she heard Steve burst out laughing. She twisted her head around and caught sight of their competitors. Tony was sprawled face down in the snow and Bucky was on his back, watching Steve and Natasha slide past Bruce. As their sled came to a stop, they stood and jogged over to the crash site. Tony was on his feet, brushing snow out of his hair and off of his face. Bucky still sat in the snow, shaking his head. Tony leaned down and scooped up a handful of snow. He turned and launched it straight at Bucky, hitting him in the forehead.

        Bucky blinked. “This is why we lost, Tony. You don’t have team spirit.”

        “No, actually, I think it was the gigantic fucking boulder in the hill, Bucky,” Tony snapped.

        Steve scanned the area. “I don’t see a boulder, Tony.”

        Natasha caught the edge of something a few feet up the hill and pointed at it. “Would that happen to be your boulder?”

        Tony stared at the small rock. “Huh. It looked bigger when we were crashing.”

       “That’s what she said,” Bucky replied, tossing a snowball at Tony.

        Tony glared at him, stooping to make another ball. “You’re gonna regret that, you little shit.”

        Bucky screamed and ran toward the top of the hill. 

 

 

         Darcy Lewis was not a light weight. She could hold her liquor, and she could drink just about anybody under the table. So when she started stumbling over her words, Clint figured he’d better make it quick before she got alcohol poisoning. They were sitting in the living room, Darcy stretched out on the couch with her feet in Clint’s lap. 

         She pointed her beer bottle at him. “You have some ‘splaining to do, Barton.”

         “I know. I’m trying to figure out where I should start,” he admitted.

         “The beginning is usually a pretty good place to start,” Darcy said, alcohol doing nothing to dull her sarcasm.

         Clint ran a hand over his face. “Fair enough. But I need you to make me a deal. There are some things I can’t give you details about. I’ll tell you as much as I can, but that’s all I can do. I need you to let me tell the story beginning to end, no interruptions. Think you can do that?”

         Darcy pretended to zip her lips. 

         “You remember how I was telling you about the circus? Well, after I left the circus I got caught up in a bad crowd. I mean, these guys were thugs. I still can’t believe I was ever stupid enough to get involved with them. Anyway, after a while of hanging around them, I got put in a bad position. They wanted me to prove I was one of them, and to do that, they wanted me to hurt some people. Like a dumb kid, I agreed to do it. But before I could, Natasha found me. She was already working for the Agency. Apparently, they’d started keeping tabs on me when it came out that I was one of the best marksmen alive. She talked me into joining with her. So for a few years, that was what we did. We worked for the Agency all around the world. We were a recon team for the first year, but after that the Agency promoted us. 

         “See, when the military or a government agency organizes a mission into a foreign country that could be hostile, they send a team to get the group in and out without a problem. Natasha and I were that team. That involved arranging for cover stories if they were needed and taking out people who could threaten the mission. Our last mission was in Hungary. Things went south and a member of the team died before we could get them out. Natasha and I decided to retire after that. A little over a year and a half later, Tony bought the bakery. There were a couple of times in the past three years that the Agency called me in for a small mission, but they knew I was out. 

       “When they picked up on some chatter involving me, they put in a call and told me. I knew the second I heard Trent’s name what he was after, so I took off to track him down before he could find you. The reason I didn’t tell you and Peter was because I thought it would put you in more danger. The others, they’d been around when I went on a mission. They knew from the beginning what I was involved in. You...you just knew me as Clint, the master decorator at Shield Bakery. And I guess part of me wanted to hold onto that, even though I knew it wasn’t fair to you. I thought, maybe, if I didn’t tell you about that part of my life, that it couldn’t hurt you. It was stupid, and it put you at risk,” Clint finished quietly.

       Darcy picked at the label on her bottle. “Y’know what makes me the maddest?”

       Clint met her gaze.

       “I’m not even mad,” Darcy mumbled. “I know I should be. Hell, I almost want to be, but I’m not. Not even a little. I’m just so freaking happy that you’re here, that you’re alive, that I can’t even be mad at you.”

      Clint’s mouth dropped open, but he didn’t know what to say. 

      Darcy smacked her forehead. “Oh my god. I’m Kat Stratford.”

       “What?” Clint asked.

       Darcy pointed at him accusingly. “And you’re Patrick freaking Verona! God damn it! The shit hath hit-ith the fan-ith.”

      “Wait, are you really going _10 Things I Hate About You_ on me right now?” Clint laughed.

      Darcy took a long drag from her beer and sighed. “I’m tired and drunk and horny. Don’t judge me.”

      “What was that last one?” Clint poked her shin. 

      Darcy rolled her eyes. “You were dead yesterday.”

      “Only a little,” Clint argued. 

 

 

       By the time the group had packed up the sleds and headed home, it was starting to get dark. They pulled into the driveway just as Peter was getting out of Wade’s car, his jacket just barely covering up the fresh hickey on his neck. He helped them cart the sleds to the shed in the backyard, answering Steve’s questions about the study group. 

      “I don’t know about you guys, but I would kill for some hot chocolate right now,” Tony said, stomping his boots on the porch. 

       A murmur of approval went up as everyone shed their snow gear and stacked it off to the side. Peter pushed open the front door and stopped, a goofy grin spreading over his face. 

      “What?” Steve asked, leaning around him to look in. 

      He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his cheeks when he caught sight of Darcy and Clint sleeping on the couch, curled up together. Everyone stepped inside quietly, heading for the kitchen. Clint’s eyes fluttered open as Natasha pushed the door closed behind her. He caught her eye and smiled sleepily, raising one hand in a wave. Natasha nodded with a smile of her own. Clint pulled Darcy closer and closed his eyes again, drifting back to sleep.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long to post, guys. There were a couple of scenes that I couldn't get to work the way I wanted to and I ended up rewriting half the chapter.


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